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vtr* 







A Sister to Esau 


AUTHOR 


BY 


AMELIA E. BARR 

OF “friend OLIVIA,” “ JAN VEDDER’s WIFE,” “ FEET OP CLAY 


“ A BORDER SHEPHERDESS,” ETC. 


» > 
1 » 

> ? 1 


* , o 


HUNT & EATON, 


ISO 


FIFTH AVENUE, 
NEW YORK. 




rz3 


Copyright, 1891, by ROBERT BONNER'S SONS. 
Copyright, 1891, by DODD, MEAD & COMPANY^ 
A// rights reserved. 


Ifl/ts n, L, Drnwn, 


Jim. 30 ,1942 



CONTENTS 


Chapter 

I. 

A Strange Title Deed . 



Page 

I 

II. 

Words Half Spoken . . 



i6 

III. 

Blair Rodney Arrives 



30 

IV. 

A Polka and its Results 



47 

V. 

A Mess of Pottage . . 



64 

VI. 

Either Will Do . . . 



80 

VII. 

Esau’s Sister. 



98 

VIII. 

Love and Change , . 



117 

IX. 

Angus Bruce Decides 



138 

X. 

Bruce Finds a Mother 



157 

XI. 

The Minister’s Troubles 



176 

XII. 

A Fortunate Journey 



197 

XIII. 

Recovered . 



219 

XIV. 

The Lost Found . . . 



237 

XV. 

The Course of True Love 



257 

XVI. 

Love’s Reason is Without Reason 

279 

XVII. 

The Turn of the Tide . 

. 

. . 

301 

XVIII. 

Good-by and Joy be with Us All ! 

322 










A SISTER TO ESAU, 


I. 

A STRANGE TITLE DEED. 

** For valiant men and bonnie lasses. 

Old Fife all other lands surpasses.” 

—Old Song, 

OOMEWHAT north of Elie, where the grand coast 
of Fife runs backward into lovely valleys and 
green pastures, there is a large gray house with cor¬ 
beled walls and high turrets. It is the home of the 
Blair-Rodneys; and it has been for hundreds of years 
a part of the beautiful landscape. 

The men of Rodney have been always men of the 
sword and the sea ; and the walls of the old kirk by 
Rodney Law are crowded with the worn brasses, re¬ 
cording their warlike deeds at home and abroad. 
And, side by side with them, the shining tablets of our 
own day keep the names of soldiers and sailors of the 
same family, who died but yesterday in the service of 
Queen Victoria ; men of valor, all of them, but pass¬ 
ing into the night, and leaving earth no better for 
their mighty pilgrimage. 

In A.D. 1842, the owner of Rodney House was 
Colonel Kinross Rodney, a soldier who had spent 
most of his life in the East Indies, and had only in- 


X 



2 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


herited in consequence of the unexpected demise of 
three nearer heirs. He was an exceedingly proud 
man, and specially proud of his descent from a family 
so ancient and so honorable. As long as his sword 
was his only fortune he had been reticent on the sub¬ 
ject, but he was very much inclined to magnify his 
ancestors when he became their representative. For 
he considered himself high-steward of the Blair-Rod¬ 
ney interests ; he was to guard their honor, and to in¬ 
crease their wealth and local importance. 

He assumed this charge with an exaggerated idea 
of the value of money ; for the lesson he had learned 
from a long life of straits and struggles was^that 
honor, valor, and noble birth were shorn of their pro¬ 
per glory if they were linked with poverty. He had 
talked differently when he was a poor man, for he had 
felt differently, and his change of sentiment expressed 
nothing worse than a change of circumstances. He 
was a man to whom the highest duty was the highest 
ideal. When he had worn the sword, absolute obedi¬ 
ence and invincible valor was the rule of his life. 
Now that the honor of his ancestors and the welfare 
of his descendants were in his hands, he was actuated 
by an almost painful sense of his responsibility. 

“ I must leave the estate better than I found it, 
Dorinda,” he would say to his wife. “To simply 
enjoy it, would be dishonorable. I could as little do 
it as I could have idled in barracks when I ought to 
have been out with my troop, keeping the frontier.” 

Fortunately, he had a wife after his own heart. 
Mrs. Rodney never forgot, even in her dreams, that 
she was the daughter of a Highland family whose 
antiquity was unfathomable. The Rodneys might 
have been earls of Fife in the mythical reign of Cor- 


A STRANGE TITLE DEED. 


3 


bred the First ; but how much more ancient were the 
MacDonalds? Did they not take possession of Mor- 
ven, even at the very time Julius Caesar was fighting 
the painted warriors of Southern Britain ? She was a 
tall, slender woman, usually dressed in the Mac¬ 
Donald tartan. Her face was grave, her manner 
high-bred, and free alike from arrogance and famili¬ 
arity—a woman of strong purpose and of firm will. 

She had lost three sons in India, and though a 
religious person, this was an affliction she found it 
difficult to forgive the Almighty. For though her 
daughters were dear to her, she recognized that they 
were but “second bests ” for the great purpose of the 
family honor and interest. Both were unknown quan¬ 
tities, and they might want to marry unsatisfactory 
people. Certainly Bertha was as yet considerate, 
affectionate, and obedient, but how would her char¬ 
acter stand the test of a lover ? She had even now 
occasional fits of stubbornness, and these might indi¬ 
cate qualities undeveloped, and of which Bertha her¬ 
self was hardly conscious. 

As for the elder daughter, Scotia, she was a more 
certain anxiety. No woman as conservative as Mrs. 
Rodney could regard without fear, and a certain dis¬ 
approval, a girl so unconventional as Scotia Rodney. 
Her very beauty was a trial. It was so unusual, so 
unfamiliar, so almost insolent in its defiance of the 
family type and traditions. Whence had come the 
soul that fashioned that tall, stately form, and that 
large, exquisite head, with its wonderful length of red 
hair, waving and curling and radiating light like an 
aureole ? How should her eyes be such celestial 
blue—blue of the day, not of the night—instead of 
the traditional brown or black of the family? And in 


4 


A SISl'ER TO ESAU. 


such a miserable world, full of sin, and of suffering 
as the penalty of sin, was not Scotia’s gay, joyous 
temper indiscreet, unfeeling perhaps, indeed, some¬ 
thing worse ? 

One evening, in the early spring of 1842, Mrs. Rod¬ 
ney was occupying her mind with such thoughts, the 
while her hands were laboriously working the family 
crest on some fine damask napkins. The lingering 
glooms of twilight brood long in that latitude, and 
she knew that the Colonel and his daughters were not 
likely to return from their walk, until the gray, pale 
lights were all dark. So she sat still, sometimes 
drawing the needle through with a calm, regular in- 
tentness, sometimes dropping her hands upon her lap, 
and allowing her eyes to look far out, and to see 
things which were invisible. For beyond the garden^ 
and beyond the park and the meadows, she saw a 
great gray bowlder, called the “ Stone of the Writing,” 
and she felt certain that her husband and children 
were before it. 

She divined truly. The Colonel, also, was speaking 
in a loud, yet monotonous voice, reciting words which 
he evidently knew as well as he knew his own name. 
Yet they were not intelligible to any one but himself; 
though the difference between the majestic Latin and 
the shrill, sibilant Gaelic was sufficiently marked to 
apprise Scotia when one passed into the other. 

As soon as the Colonel ceased speaking, she said : 

“Who graved the inscription, father? To what 
does it refer ? I know that you have been reciting in 
Latin and Gaelic, but of your meaning, I know noth¬ 
ing at all.” 

“ Nor do I,” said Bertha, “ though, I dare say, it is 
something about Fingal or Ossian.” 


A STRANGE TITLE DEED. 


5 


“ Children, it is the title-deed to our estate. The 
first holders of Blair-Rodney won it, and held it with 
their swords ; they would have thought a parchment 
deed a disgrace. But when Rodney stood by the 
Bruce, and received this land in reward, he graved his 
right upon this everlasting rock.” 

“But have we no parchments, father?” asked 
Bertha. “ If there should come question of our right, 
how would the stone witness be taken to Edinburgh 
Court ? ” 

“ My dear, you are not the first of your race to 
foresee that difficulty. James Rodney, in Queen 
Mary’s reign, won the Queen’s favor, and asked and 
received from her the parchment which secures in all 
courts our right. Then the men of Blair-Rodney no 
longer picked out the letters with their sword points. 
Some of the holders did indeed keep the old record 
clear ; others let the moss and lichen cover it. I have 
just had it restored. It was only finished this after¬ 
noon, and I was impatient to show it to you. I fear 
you do not share my enthusiasm.” 

“ It is the grandest thing in our keeping, father,” 
and Scotia turned a face radiating pride and pleasure 
toward the Stone of Witness. “ I shall come here 
very often, and never once without calling to remem¬ 
brance the men whose valor and loyalty won our right, 
and whose fingers cut in the gray rock the record of 
it. If one could only pray for the dead, I would 
always say here a prayer for their everlasting 
peace.” 

“ Scotia ! How can you think of such an awful 
thing ? To pray for the dead ! You know that is 
rank popery ! ” And Bertha regarded her sister with 
unqualified dissent and disapproval. 


6 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“ These early Blairs and Rodneys were papists, of 
course, Bertha. I dare say they would be grateful for 
the prayer.” 

“ Scotia Rodney ! If the minister could only hear 
you ! ” 

What has the minister to do with my prayers ? ”— 
then more softly and solemnly—“ who can interfere 
between a soul and its Maker ? To suppose that any 
minister understands a relation so personal is indeed 
popery of the rankest kind.” 

“ Children, we will leave theology alone. What can 
we say for our dead kindred ? They are gone to the 
mercy of The Merciful. They know the grand secret, 
now—all of them.” 

“ If they could only make themselves visible, father, 
what a host they would be ! Soldiers with banners, 
and claymores, and horses fleet as the wind ! ” 

Men become spirits, but horses do not. You 
should be careful, and not let your imagination run 
to such lengths, sister. It is really wicked ! ” 

If the Bible be true, Bertha, there are horses in 
heaven ; chariots of fire, horses and horsemen thereof! 
John saw them, and Elisha saw them. Isaiah says, 
the beasts honor God. David says, they pray to Him 
for food ; and when God made a covenant with man 
after the flood. He also made a covenant with every 
living creature. Human beings think a great deal 
too much of themselves, and a great deal too little of 
God’s other creatures.” 

“ The world is made for man, Scotia.” 

“ Pardon me, dear father, if I dare to think a little 
different. Is the rain and the sunshine sent for man 
only ? Are they not also sent for the trees and the 
herbage ? Are the trees and the herbage for man 


A STRANGE TITLE DEED. 7 

only ? The birds sleep in the branches ; the animals 
dwell in the covert of the woods." 

“ Man has the knowledge and the fear of God, 
Scotia." 

“ Remembering all that the Bible says about beasts, 
birds, and even insects, how dare we say that all 
creation does not have knowledge of God ; and as for 
His favor, man seeks his food with labor and pain ; 
the animals neither plow nor sow ; God feeds 
them ! " 

“We are lords over animals ; they are given to us 
for food." 

“ They also chase and devour men." 

“ Scotia, my dear, you are talking as women talk— 
%llogically." 

“ Are truth and logic identical, father ?" 

“ We are getting beyond our subject. How has 
this argument grown out of our title ? Children, will 
you reverence this stone when the place that knows 
me now knows me no more forever ?" 

“I will keep it as clear as it is this moment, if 
it be within my ability to do so ; I promise you, 
father." 

It was Scotia who spoke. Her face was solemn, 
her voice had her heart in it. And Bertha noticed 
that her father seemed satisfied with Scotia’s assur¬ 
ance. He did not interrogate her specially ; he did 
not notice her silence. She looked at her sister with 
a query in her eyes that was not a kindly one. And 
she thought thus in her heart: 

“ Scotia, then, has already decided that the estate 
is hers. But my right is quite as strong. I do not 
believe in primogeniture, neither does mother. She 
says the whole story of Esau and Jacob denies it— 


8 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


the elder shall serve the younger—we shall see. I 
will tell mother what Scotia said.” 

As these thoughts passed through Bertha’s mind, 
the Colonel lifted his hat to the old stone pillar, and 
slowly turned toward his home. And all her life 
Scotia kept his memory as she saw him in that act— 
his tall, spare figure wrapped in a military cloak, his 
solemn enthusiastic face, his lifted eyes, his bare, white 
head, and his outstretched arm, saluting. It was a 
picture in the still, gray twilight which commanded 
sympathy, because it was so genuine and so unselfish. 

“ I have seen many a fine statue,” he said, as they 
walked slowly through the yet brown fields, “ but what 
is a statue to an old inscription ? A human voice 
issued from that'rock, and made itself audible through 
the void of centuries. It told me that I was not 
alone ; that other men—men of my kindred—had 
stood where I stood, and had thought and felt as I 
felt. Hundreds of years ago that stone found speech, 
and still its words are living words. But where are 
the men and women it spoke for ? ” 

He asked the question with a wistful solemnity, and 
immediately answered it,—“ God knows where, and we 
shall know.” 

Then they went silently forward. In the dark, 
swaying plantations the rooks were going over their 
last roll call, and the partridges, with a chirr-ch- 
ch-chir, were hastening to the unplowed turnip 
fields ; but these sounds blended with the fall of 
their own footsteps, and entered the ears and the 
heart without consciousness. When they reached the 
village it was nearly dark, but at the cottage doors 
men and women were still standing. Their faces were 
patient and somber, made so by the patient processes 


A STRANGE TITLE DEED. 


9 


of Nature with which their own lives were blent. All 
were servants or tenants of Rodney, and they lifted 
their bonnets in quiet respect as he passed. But 
hinds and shepherds are not talkative, they learn to 
be silent in the lonely spaces of the fields and the 
upper fells. 

“ I thought of calling on the minister ; ” said the 
Colonel. “ But it is late, and the manse is not 
lighted, so we will not delay. Perhaps he is from 
home.” 

To call upon the minister after their evening walk 
was a very usual act. Rodney liked to saunter the last 
half mile in his company; he liked to see him at his 
table and fireside ; he enjoyed his supper and his 
glass of Glenlivet doubly, if the minister was present 
to give the fillip of contradiction to his opinions. And 
this ending to the evening was just as pleasant to 
Scotia and Bertha. For the Reverend Angus Bruce 
was the one young man who had yet come familiarly 
into their lives ; and he was a very remarkable young 
man. 

Three months previously the Colonel, to gratify an 
old army friend, had presented Angus Bruce to the 
charge of the kirk at Rodney Law. And greatly to 
the surprise of all, he had been accepted with scarce a 
demurring voice. This circumstance was the more re¬ 
markable, because at that time Scotland was fighting 
every known civil power of the realm on this very sub¬ 
ject of patronage, and any minister offered by temporal 
influence was prejudged an “Intruder.” 

But Angus Bruce had come with his authority on 
his lips. The first sermon he preached gave him his 
warrant to the pulpit. There was not a shepherd with 
the Five Points at his five finger ends, who did not 


lO 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


allow Angus Bruce to be a grand priest after the order 
of John Calvin. Even Adam Cowrie admitted it; 
and he was a judge of orthodoxy so uncompromising 
that his very collie dog whined or howled a protest, if 
there was any modification in the pulpit of the great 
doctrines of election and eternal punishment. 

The young minister was also a very handsome man. 
Physically he was such a priest as the law of Levi de¬ 
mands—without spot or blemish ; not tall, but ad¬ 
mirably built; slender, lean, stript for the conflict of 
life, and full of animal vigor, tempered by nervous 
irritability. He had an ecclesiastical type of face ; 
pale, dark, severe, though sometimes fairly trans¬ 
figured by flashes of sudden pleasure or feeling. 
Added to these advantages was the great charm of 
spiritual authority, and the ultra-terrestrial influence 
which a fine preacher, lifted up by his office above all 
conditions, must necessarily exert. And in this office 
none could gainsay Angus Bruce. He was fiery, 
vehement, terribly Calvinistic—not a loophole in all 
his shining mail—and he spoke as Elihu begins : 

I am full of words, 

The spirit within constrains me, 

every word pushing the right way; every word going 
home. 

That such a young man should exert a powerful 
influence over girls with the dew of their youth still 
on them was exceedingly natural. Neither admitted 
the fact, and yet neither deceived the other. 

I am sure that Scotia has fallen in love with the 
minister,” Bertha had said one confidential hour to her 
mother; and Mrs. Rodney had answered with em¬ 
phasis, “See that you do nothing so foolish. Your 


A STRANGE TITLE DEED. ii 

father sends for young Blair Rodney very soon, and 
whoever marries Blair, will get Rodney, and all the 
land about it.” 

Yet in spite of this hint, Bertha was as much dis¬ 
appointed as Scotia when they saw the manse unlighted, 
and heard the Colonel’s determination to hasten home¬ 
ward. But both remained silent, for both were afraid 
of revealing themselves. The little gate to the manse 
garden was passed, and they were stepping gloomily 
along the path by the stone wall and its bare hedge, 
when a woman put her head above it. She was old, 
and her large brown face was surrounded by the thick 
borders of her white cap, but Scotia saw her with 
pleasure. 

“God be wi’ you, Colonel Rodney. Is it the minis¬ 
ter you’re wanting? He’s awa’to the kirk-yard to 
think oot his sermon.” 

“ To the kirk-yard, Grizel ?” 

“ Even sae. Colonel. Is there ony better place to 
wrastle wi’ heaven and hell, and death and judgment ? 
Minister Laing studied wi’ his spindle shanks spread 
oot to the blaze, and a glass o’ toddy to his hand. Ye 
ken yoursel’ what kind o’ sermons he gave us.” 

“ The kirk-yard is a cold study, Grizel.” 

“ It’s our lang hame, sir. And God kens we are a’ 
dying creatures; our life is just within our lips ; we 
are here to-day and gane to-morrow.” 

“ How is your toothache, Grizel?” 

“ Deed, Miss Rodney, I hae the best o’ it. I got it 
pulled oot, and I burned it up wi* a bit o’ hazel stick ; 
but I hae the rhuematics—awfu’.” 

“And you have many other things, Grizel Gowrie. 
Adam and you have a good home with the minister, 
and you are saving money, I dare say.” 


12 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


We all hae our blessings, Colonel; but in some 
way or ither the Lord taks them oot o’ us. He taks 
them a’ oot o’ me in rhuematics. Bid the minister 
hame wi’ ye, sir, for a bite and a sup and a warld-like 
company. He’s been stepping atween the dead and 
the kirk lang enough for ae Sawbath day’s preach¬ 
ing.” 

In a few moments they reached the kirk, and all 
peered curiously into the solemn yard around it. A 
deeper darkness had settled there, for the old yew 
trees cast black shadows over the lonely spot. But 
the white flags which made a path around the kirk 
were all the more distinct, and on them the minister 
was slowly walking, now visible, now lost to sight— 
a gloomy, spectral figure, whose slow, deliberate 
movements had a singular fascination. They watched 
him for a few moments, and then the Colonel passed 
onward without a word. 

A great depression seemed to fall upon each, and 
the rest of their walk was taken hastily, as if escap¬ 
ing from something unhappy. Old Grizel’s thin, 
querulous voice, the preacher’s solemn vigil, the sad 
portents of the sighing yew trees and the ghost-like 
gravestones—even the hard, motionless, granite idea 
of the old kirk assailed their hearts through their 
imaginations, and for the moment they could not 
escape those rudimental terrors of darkness and 
death which we bring into the world with us and 
only conquer in moments of triumphant faith and 
hope. 

“ How uncanny the minister was,” said Bertha to 
her sister, as they removed their cloaks and furs ; “ he 
looked so tall in the gloom and his down-bent face 
so white and phantom-like.” 


A STRANGE TITLE DEED, 


13 


“ And Bertha, I fancied there were people—ghosts 
I mean—behind us, after we left the kirk-yard. I ex¬ 
pected to feel a hand, or hear a whisper, every 
step I took. Father stayed out too long ; and the 
influence of the Stone Pillar was on me. Whether 
we were interested or not, perhaps those behind us 
were.” 

“ I do not believe they either know, or care, any¬ 
thing about an old granite bowlder, with some Latin 
and Gaelic words on it. The next life can be little 
better than this if such things interest the dead. Of 
course, I would not say so to father, but-” 

“May not such things be symbols of family honor 
and faith ? and of family ties, that are not broken by 
death ? ” 

“The dead are so far off.” » 

“ How can we tell ? They go out from us, but per¬ 
haps only to the next room of life.” 

“ The Bible says nothing about a next room. Peo¬ 
ple go either to heaven or hell when they die. I am 
afraid a great many go to hell. Did you see that 
letter on the table beside father’s place ? I have an 
idea that it is from our cousin Blair. I suppose he is 
coming here soon.” , 

“ Father told me so. He is our nearest kin.” 

“ And wants to be nearer. He is only thirty years 
old, and mother has read about him at the games. 
They say he is ‘the prettiest man in Perthshire’: 
that is, he has the most inches, and can run the farthest, 
and leap the highest, and shoot the closest, and 
do all sorts of wonderful things beside. Will he be 
handsome, also, do you think ? ” 

“ I dare say he will have cheeks like carnation, and 
black eyes, and black hair, and a loud voice, and red 



14 A SISTER TO ESAU. 

hands. And he will make puns, and consider them 

* wit.’ ” 

“ And he will sing, ‘ Will you goto Inverness ? ’ and 

* Cam’ ye by Athole ?’ ” 

And his talk will be of bullocks.” 

Perhaps it is not right, Scotia, to say such things. 
He may be thinking nicely of us.” 

It was a conversation of the lips ; neither girl 
thought much of the words she uttered. Scotia stood 
erect, watching her sister make still smoother the 
smooth bandeaux which gave her round, baby face 
such an innocent look. But she was really thinking 
of that dark figure in the kirk-yard, and her soul was, 
in a dim, unacknowledged way, keeping with his soul 
the lonely session with the darkness and the dead. 

Let us go downstairs, Scotia. I dare say father 
is waiting for us.” Bertha was now satisfied with her 
appearance. If the minister came in late, as he had 
done once or twice, there was not a hair of her head 
out of its place, and she glanced at Scotia’s flowing 
locks, and wondered how they could be at once so 
untidy and so becoming. “ Let us go downstairs, father 
will be waiting for us. It is time for the Exercise ; ” 
and her tone was almost reproving. For a moment, 
Scotia felt as if she had been the cause of the delay. 

The servants, old and young, male and female, had 
already gathered in the parlor ; and the Colonel, at his 
daughters’ entrance, rose with The Book in his hand. 
He was not a scholar, but Scotia thought no one 
could read like him. He gave out the portion in its 
course—“ The Word of the Lord by Joel the son of 
Pethuel ; the First Chapter.” The leaves rustled in 
the hands of the hinds and the maids ; there was a 
short deep stillness, and then softly and solemnly, the 


A SmANGE TITLE DEED, 


15 


wondrous picture grew, verse by verse :—the fig tree 
stripped of its bark, standing white against the arid 
landscape—the bride wailing for her husband—the 
night-watch of the supplicating priests—the empty 
garners—the perishing herds. And how forcible were 
these things to the men and women who knew the 
hopes and fears of agricultural and pastoral life ! 

Ere the chapter was ended, the minister came quietly 
among them ; and it was his voice that lifted the sup¬ 
plicating prayer. Scotia thought it had tones in it 
she had never heard before, and she wondered if they 
had been caught in that solemn communion from which 
he had just come. Bertha heard them not, she was 
congratulating herself upon her prudence. She felt 
that she could do herself perfect justice ; her hair was 
in beautiful order ; her collar fresh ; on her feet were 
the red sandals so coquettishly becoming ; on her 
hands the rings which accentuated their whiteness, 
and drew attention to their small size. 

Yes, people do think of such vanities, even in the 
presence of God. For an ear for spiritual discourse is 
quite as distinct a thing as an ear for music ; and 
Bertha Rodney had no comprehension of that prayer 
which is the motion of an hidden.fire. But she knew 
that a beautiful woman kneeling is doubly beautiful ; 
and that the act of worshipjs, in itself, one of the 
most poetic acts of humanity. 


II. 


WORDS HALF SPOKEN, 

“Why are we whose strength is but for a day, so full of 
schemes ? Let the mind which is now glad hate to carry its care 
beyond the present, and temper the bitters of life with easy 
smiles. ”— Horace. 

“ To-night Love claims his full control 
And with desire and with regret 
My soul this hour has drawn your soul 
A little nearer yet.” 

— Rosetti, 

T3 ODNEY HOUSE was at this date a beautiful 
residence, half castellated, and half-monastic in 
style; a house with a home-like air; long, ram¬ 
bling, old, and full of all pleasant conditions. It 
was surrounded by a wide garden space, laid out in 
the Dutch fashion. In summer and autumn this gar¬ 
den was a very paradise of sweet scents; flowers, and 
fruits, and herbs mingling their separate perfumes in 
one general spicy fragrance. 

Around, the land was hilly and woody, broken by 
miniature copses, full of the tones of water, and the in¬ 
land sounds of trees and birds ; of the cuckoo’s sweet 
dissyllable, and the nightingale’s solemn music ; and 
from the meadows and the painful furrows, the lark’s 
all-invincible song of hope. 

The sea was not far away, and its blessed breezes 
mingled with the landward winds, and charged them 

i6 


WORDS HALF SPOKEN. 


17 


potently with the magic savors of iodine and ozone. 
From the upper windows of the house, and from the 
higher fells around it, many a mile of Ocean's gray 
spaces were clearly visible, and often the Colonel rose 
early, that he might see in the morning light the fleet 
of fishing boats tip the horizon ; their wet sails barred 
with sunshine, waving and bending with the wind, 
and glorious as an army with banners. 

Between him and the sea were 

Upon the landward braes, 

Scattered farms and cottar folk : 

And the fishers who kept to their own old ways. 

In the village that huddled beneath the rock ; 

Where a sheltering cove made a safe retreat 
For the brown lug-sails of their little fleet. 

But further description might reveal the precise 
locality to inquisitive tourists, who would hunt it, and 
make it a lion, and get it at last into guide books. 

Now Scotia Rodney was a girl of the fields and the 
woods. She was a familiar of the animals who dwelt 
in them, and the birds told her their secrets. She 
understood the brotherhood of the trees, and the scent 
of herbs was delicious to her ; all her clothing smelt 
of the ethereal perfume of the shy woodruff. But 
Bertha was a girl of the house. Her small feet loved 
carpeted rooms, she liked the sunshine through cur¬ 
tains, she enjoyed soft couches and touching love- 
stories, and the ripple of her own voice to the piano. 
The wind disarranged her hair, the rain gave her cold, 
the cold made her shiver, and the sun spoiled her 
skin. Bertha’s world could have been easily arranged 
within the precincts of a handsome modern house, and 
the daily walk, which the Colonel compelled her to 
take for her health’s sake, was one of those things she 


18 A SISTER TO ESAU, 

was resolved to put a stop to—as soon as she was 
married. 

Mrs. Rodney had much the same tastes as her 
daughter Bertha, though in her case they were the 
result of circumstances. Her life in India did not 
admit of much out-door exercise, and the sedentary 
habit once formed was not to be broken. She thought 
the weather in Scotland just as home-compelling, and 
then, she had grown old and a little stout ; movement 
tired her, and the house did not get on well if she 
was out of it. 

Naturally, then, Bertha became her companion, 
and many things made her a very sympathetic one. 
Bertha’s neatness, her love of order, her dainty per¬ 
sonal predelictions, were all reproductions of the same 
qualities in herself. If there was any employment 
Scotia hated, it was needlework ; but Bertha could 
dawdle a month away embroidering her crest upon 
her handkerchief. And as she sat sewing by her 
mother’s side, they talked together of the subjects so 
interesting to such women—their callers and their 
servants, their little grievances and their new dresses. 

Scotia’s tastes had been derived from her father, but 
he was not able to give her the same sympathy. His 
health was frail ; he was a late riser ; it was always 
afternoon or evening before he felt able to take his 
regular walk, and this was the only effort he made. 
But he liked to talk with Scotia of all she saw in her 
solitary rambles ; and was often able to supplement 
her investigations by his own early experience. 

Families are often thus sharply divided, especially 
if their number be small. And at first in the Rodney 
family the mischief of it was not apparent. It began 
when Scotia was scarce sixteen, and when the Colonel 


WORDS HALF SPOKEN, 19 

went out a great deal. Then his demands for the 
companionship of his daughters were frequently felt 
by Bertha to be a trial and a grievance, and she ap¬ 
plied herself diligently to the consideration of some 
plan for escaping these frequent walks. She had 
headaches ; she had her music to practice; her 
mother needed her help. She took pains to concili¬ 
ate Scotia, and to engage her to assume the duty as 
her own, so that by the mere iteration of events, 
Scotia gradually became the constant companion of 
her father. 

Scotia was not loth to accept the position. They 
walked, and sailed, and rode together ; and when 
stormy weather compelled them to keep the house, the 
Colonel busied his eldest daughter in revising his 
military diary, and in answering his letters. The par¬ 
tial isolation which these literary duties demanded 
was not at first disagreeable to Mrs. Rodney and 
Bertha. But as the years went on and the Colonel’s 
health failed, and the girls grew to womanhood, then 
this close companionship fretted their mother. The 
estate was entirely at the Colonel’s disposal. He could 
give it all to Scotia if he desired, and though it was 
understood that in the matter of Blair Rodney, both 
the young man and the girls were to have the utmost 
freedom of choice, Mrs. Rodney felt sure that her hus¬ 
band’s influence would almost unconsciously be in 
favor of a marriage between Scotia and the next natu¬ 
ral heir to Rodney Law. 

She knew also that the Colonel would not break the 
estate. She had hinted at this possibility, and had 
been met by the most positive assertion that he had 
no moral right to do so. “ One of the girls must 
marry Blair, and keep the estate intact,” he said. 


20 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


“ But suppose neither of the girls will marry Blair, 
or suppose that Blair has no disposition to marry 
either of the girls ? Both conditions are supposable, 
Kinross." 

“ Of course they are, Dorinda." 

“ Well, then ? " 

It is supposable, also, that the girls will marry 
some one, if they neither of them marry our cousin." 

They are beautiful ; one will be rich. They are 
sure to marry." 

“ Then we will choose the son-in-law of the best 
family, and give him our name." 

“ He may refuse to take it." 

“ Then the other one." 

“ He also may refuse. There are men who will 
not part with their family name for either love or 
gold. Would you ? Divide the estate between your 
daughters. Why should you care for men you never 
saw ? Has not Providence, by denying you sons, de¬ 
creed that your family should die out." 

“ Dorinda, why should my late cousin James Rod¬ 
ney have cared for me ? He had never seen me. He 
was friendly with the Blairs, and also with Blair Rod¬ 
ney’s father. Yet he respected my prior claim, and 
rendered me the fullest justice. Shall I be less honora¬ 
ble to my posterity ? And Providence has not de¬ 
creed the extinction of my family. I have third, 
fourth, and fifth cousins. I must wrong none of 
them." 

The expected visit of Blair Rodney was then a very 
important affair. The Colonel was secretly desirous 
that Scotia should marry the young man, and so in¬ 
herit after him. Mrs. Rodney was determined that 
Bertha should be the mistress of Rodney Law. Both 


WORDS HALF SPOKEH. 


21 


were reckoning without any adequate knowledge of 
their quantities. Nothing could be predicted of the 
coming suitor, for nothing particular was known of 
him. Under the circumstances, Scotia and Bertha 
were equally uncertain. The Colonel assured his 
wife that he had left all to that ordinating power 
which controls every human-life ; yet twenty times a 
day he checked himself, for wondering how far his 
express command, or even his wish, would influence 
Scotia. Mrs. Rodney was certain that her daughters’ 
husbands were chosen from all eternity, yet she talked 
continually to Bertha about Blair Rodney, and urged 
her to secure his affections as the only means of secur¬ 
ing her future wealth and position. 

Nor did she think herself specially unkind in this 
partisanship. She believed that Scotia’s beauty might 
well stand for her fortune. Bertha was far less at¬ 
tractive to the general eye, and as one of them must 
be rich, and the other arrive at riches and position 
through a fortunate marriage, it seemed to Mrs. Rod¬ 
ney, Scotia was best equipped by nature to win what 
she did not inherit. She reminded Bertha that luxury 
was a necessity to her ; and that she was totally unfit 
to endure privation of any kind. On the contrary, 
Scotia was indifferent to physical discomfort; she 
was careless of money and unappreciative of social 
honor. How easy, then, it would be for Scotia to de¬ 
scend a little in rank, all her tastes being of so un¬ 
fashionable a kind ! 

It was while affairs were in this condition the Colo¬ 
nel had the writing on the Stone Pillar renewed. The 
crisis of his daughters’ lives drew near, and he counted 
upon everything likely to intensify their family pride, 
and the clannish affection which would be its legiti- 


22 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


mate outcome. He himself had been greatly moved 
by the ancient record, and he supposed Scotia and 
Bertha shared his emotion. In a large measure, 
Scotia did so ; Bertha lacked the sentiment of rever¬ 
ence, and to her the old Stone was an old stone, and 
nothing more. Very soon, however, it became some¬ 
thing definitely disagreeable, for the Colonel made it 
the terminus of his daily walk, and Bertha grew weary 
to death of the monotony of the road ; of the reiter¬ 
ated enthusiasm ; of being compelled to endorse senti¬ 
ments she did not feel. 

As the spring advanced, the expected visit of Blair 
Rodney began to assume a definite aspect. He was 
in correspondence with the Colonel, and he asserted 
his delight in the prospect. But when the Colonel 
fixed a certain day for his arrival, the young man 
found an indisputable excuse,—“ He preferred not to 
be bound by any date. He would much rather give 
them a surprise.” 

This reply did not please Colonel Rodney. He un¬ 
derstood from it far more of Blair Rodney than Blair 
expressed. 

“The fellow must have an amazing self-compla¬ 
cency, Dorinda,” was his comment on the letter ; for 
he felt the pettiness of that nature which supposes, in 
its measureless conceit, that the “ surprise ” of its 
arrival must necessarily be delightful. 

Scotia evidently held the same opinion. “ My 
cousin is preparing an overwhelming pleasure ; he is 
going to give us a ‘surprise ’ visit. We have been on 
the watchtower for a week,” she said to the minister, 
as she was sauntering with him one evening be¬ 
tween the manse and Rodney House. The Colonel 
was with them, but he was a little behind, having 


WORDS HALF SPOKEN. 23 

been detained by his steward about some farm 
matter. 

They stood still as she spoke, and Angus Bruce 
looked steadily at Scotia. Her irresistible beauty 
made his heart thrill an3 tremble with delight. She 
stood in the rays of the setting sun and her hair was 
a glory around her. Rosy emanations appeared to 
come from her radiant face. Her green cloth dress, 
the pink kerchief round her throat, the white daisies 
in her hand, the little gypsy bonnet of rough straw 
tied under her white, resolute chin, were all indivisible 
parts of an exquisite womanly picture. 

“ Miss Rodney ! ” 

The two words were two volumes. They were 
words with a soul in them. They forced open the 
minister's usually firm lips, and they quivered with the 
heat and passion that had enabled them to break that 
well-guarded barrier. 

And common as the words were, Scotia understood 
their meaning. She looked into the face of Angus 
Bruce, and she was dumb. But he saw the soul leap 
into her eyes, and his soul saluted it then and there. 
Her red lips parted, she was going to speak, and at 
the same moment the Colonel laid his hand upon her 
shoulder, and stepped between them. Whether the 
movement was accidental or intentional Scotia could 
not determine. But it brought with it a chill restraint. 
Neither Bruce nor Scotia could speak, and the Colo¬ 
nel’s words seemed to be very far away from the two 
full hearts, that affected to listen to them. 

At the door the minister stood still ; he would go 
no further, and in spite of an exaggerated civility on 
the Colonel’s part, he declined his invitation to supper. 
Scotia stood motionless and speechless. She tried to 


24 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


catch the minister’s glance once more, but he did not 
permit her ; and she felt an inexpressible sinking of 
her heart, as he turned away without any sign of their 
momentary understanding. 

With a grumble of disappointment the Colonel 
passed into the house ; but Scotia lingered until she 
saw the lonely figure disappear among the somber 
shadows of the garden. Then her hands dropped to 
her side, and the daisies were scattered at her feet. 
She stooped to gather them, for she heard Bertha’s step, 
and she was glad to find in the act an excuse, not 
only for her loitering, but for an attitude which per¬ 
mitted her to look upon the ground instead of in her 
sister’s face. 

“Was Angus Bruce walking with you to-night, 
Scotia ? ” 

“Yes. He would not come in. Father pressed 
him to do so, but he would not come in.” 

“ It is a strange thing that we never meet him 
when I walk with you. One might suppose that 
father wished to make a marriage between you and 
the minister.” 

“One might suppose any number of absurd things. 
Supposition is not circumstance.” 

“ What are you picking up ? Daisies ? Did Angus 
Bruce give them to you ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ I am sure he did.” 

“ I gathered them myself, at the foot of the Stone 
Pillar.” 

“ I do not believe you ! ” Bertha spoke with a con¬ 
temptuous passion, and Scotia stood straight and 
looked at her. 

“ Is it worth your while to be jealous, Bertha ? ” 


WORDS HALF SPOKEN. 


25 


The words were aggravating. Scotia was sorry as 
soon as they were uttered, sorry and ashamed. But 
Bertha gave her no opportunity of modifying them. 
She flung back the one word “jealous”; and with a 
white face, left Scotia standing at the open door, 
with the re-gathered daisies in her hand. 

Those who know what it is to touch, without grasp¬ 
ing, may comprehend the sickness of disappointment 
which depressed Scotia, and which made her momen¬ 
tarily thoughtless and unkind. For Bertha’s words 
at that hour were specially bitter, because Angus 
Bruce had spoken, and then instantly been as one 
who had not spoken. She knew, also, that she had 
answered him ; and she was humiliated, because he 
had not accepted her answer. 

“I will never give him such an opportunity to 
wound me again.” She promised her heart this sat¬ 
isfaction, but it refused to find any comfort in the 
retaliation. And then, not unnaturally, the personal 
irritation became more general, and she felt that all 
the world was out of touch and sympathy with her. 

Colonel Rodney was eating his brose and butter 
when she went to the parlor, and an open letter was 
by his side. She took her place at the table with a 
shrug, and a meaning glance at the untidy epistle. 
The writing was large and blotted, and it had been 
closed with a sprawling seal of red wax. 

“ Another of Cousin Blair’s impertinent apologies, I 
suppose ; ” she said. 

“ Why impertinent, Scotia ? ” 

“ If you do not see it so, dear mother, then of 
course I misunderstand the situation.” 

“ Blair Rodney is not Angus Bruce ; ” said Bertha 
very sweetly. “ The minister has nothing to do but 


*6 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


run after the Laird. Blair is a gentleman with an es¬ 
tate to manage.” 

“ There is no comparison between the men, 
Bertha.” 

“ That is precisely what I was saying, Scotia.” 

The minister will have a large enough question to 
answer soon ; ” said the Colonel. “ From Shetland to 
Galloway, Scotland is at fever heat anent the affairs of 
her kirk. And the Queen and the Parliament are 
even-down Gallios; they care for none of these 
things.” 

A spirit of contradiction took instant possession of 
Scotia. She was delighted to include the whole kirk 
in the one special minister who had wounded her that 
night ; and she answered with a petulent pity : 

“ Poor Gallio ! If I bad an enemy, I would like 
to make him a scripture character, and have him 
preached about from countless pulpits, generation 
after generation ; more particularly, if a fault was 
attributed to him impossible in the state of society in 
which he lived.” 

Bertha looked at her sister, and then at her mother, 
and Mrs. Rodney said : 

“ Scotia my dear, you are in a bad temper. You are 
cutting your mutton as if you were cutting some one’s 
head off. Is it the minister you are mentally punish¬ 
ing, or is it Blair Rodney? He is disappointing, but 
he will be here very soon now.” 

“ I hope Blair Rodney may never show his face in 
this house.” 

“ My dear, the house is your father’s house.” 

“ God be thanked for that mercy ! ” 

“ And as for Gallio, he was a despiser of true re¬ 
ligion ; and your father is not to be opposed in 


V/ORDS HALF SPOKEN. 


27 


using him as a symbol of a wickedly careless govern¬ 
ment.” 

“ Pardon, mother ! I think we do Gallio great injus¬ 
tice. He was really nothing worse than a good magis¬ 
trate, who refused to take any interest in a theological 
fight.” 

“ Scotia ! ” 

“ Father, I appeal to you. The Jews took the 
Christians to the court of Gallio, and charged them 
with not worshiping God according to their law— 
that is, as they worshiped him. The Proconsul 
Gallio was a pagan ; he knew nothing about the 
tenets of Christianity, nor yet of Judaism. He felt 
very much as you would feel, father, if you were 
called upon to decide a quarrel between Antinomians 
and Separatists, or Buchanists and Brownists. I dare 
say you would not care, either.” 

She had laid down the offending knife and fork, and 
she spoke with a nervous amount of temper she very 
rarely exhibited. Mrs. Rodney was astonished and 
curious. She understood that the old Roman was a 
mere pretense, and that Scotia’s flushed cheeks and 
eyes, shining with restrained tears, were the evidences 
of an annoyance far more personal than Gallio’s court 
or the Scottish kirk. She glanced at Bertha, and 
Bertha sighed, cast down her eyes, and then lifting 
them, gazed pointedly out of a certain window. Mrs. 
Rodney understood her. Angus Bruce, then, was a 
factor in the trouble, but in what respect she could not 
guess. However, her suspicions were excited, and she 
continued : 

“ I think you are sick, Scotia. You have fever; that 
is to be seen, very plainly. I will give you some medi¬ 
cine before you go to bed.” 


28 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“ No ! I am not sick, mother ; though it is a kind 
of sickness to have the whim of telling the truth. 
You once said so, father.” 

“ Yes, my dear ; but I meant about worldly things. 
It is a pity I spoke of Gallio ; but he is the natural 
example in cases of religious carelessness.” 

“ I know he is ; and perhaps it is as well not to ob¬ 
ject. If men and women are to be misrepresented 
and made examples of in the pulpit, it is better that 
Greeks and Romans should be the victims. They are 
dead, and perhaps they won’t mind—also, they cannot 
talk back.” 

The Colonel looked at his Dorinda inquisitively. A 
smile was in his eyes, though his lips were drawn 
tightly together. ‘‘ There is mair in the atmosphere 
than its ain proper elements; as Adam Gowrie would 
say. Now girls, what is it ? ” 

“ Nothing,” said Scotia promptly. 

Nothing,” said Bertha, with an air of innocence. 

Nothing that I am familiar with ; ” said Mrs. Rod¬ 
ney doubtfully. 

“ Then Scotia, my child, if you feel cross, attack 
your neighbors ; that will be fair play, for I’ll be bound 
you will only be paying back scores. Leave religion 
alone—and the Holy Bible.” 

“ The Holy Bible says nothing of religion. It talks 
of God, not of religion. It tells us to be godly, not 
religious. As for us, we think far more of our own 
souls than we do of God.” 

What is the difference, Scotia?” 

“ Just the difference of thinking of yourself, and of 
forgetting self—the difference between the fear of 
hell and the love of God.” 

“Ring the bell, and let us have the Exercise said 


WORDS HALF SPOKEN. 


29 


the Colonel sternly. He rose hastily from the table, 
and went to the reading desk, and began to turn with 
an affectionate reverence the leaves of The Book. And 
the men and maids came heavily in, and the psalm 
was sung. Then the Colonel passed over the regular 
portion, and selected the i8th chapter of Acts, and 
Scotia’s face burned and she quivered with angry feel¬ 
ing, when she was compelled in her turn to read the 
15th verse. But she was not convinced. On the con¬ 
trary, the Roman Proconsul became at that hour one 
of her friends ; even on her knees she was inclined to 
defend him. 

And her heart was wounded by this public defec¬ 
tion of her father. In all family troubles and disputes 
he was generally on her side ; why had he forsaken 
her this night ? Was he suspicious of the tender feel¬ 
ing between Angus Bruce and herself ? If so, he 
ought to have understood her suffering and her irri¬ 
tability, and given her sympathy. And so the calm, 
holy tones of her father praying, did not comfort or 
soothe her. She thought he had been unkind. And 
oh ! the behavior of Angus was strange and unkind 
enough. 

But afterward, when he bade her “ good-night,” when 
he drew her within his arm, and held her close to his 
heart, when his full eyes sought hers, and he kissed 
her twice, she went out of the room with a smile ; 
with her head lifted, and her soul full of comfort. 


III. 


BLAIR RODNEY ARRIVES. 

** I marked all kindred powers the heart finds fair :— 

Truth with awed lips ; and Hope, with eyes upcast; 

And Fame, whose loud wings fan the ashen Past 

To signal fires : 

Love’s throne was not with these ; but far above 
All passionate wind of welcome and farewell; 

He sat in breathless bowers they dream not of ; 

Though Truth foreknow Love’s heart, and Hope foretell ; 

And Fame be for Love’s sake desirable.” — Rosetti. 

T)LAIR RODNEY came the next morning. His 
^ letter of the preceding evening had put aside 
immediate expectation, he had been forgotten except 
by Bertha, and the surprise he had pleased himself 
with arranging appeared to be complete. The Colonel 
was in his morning sleep ; Mrs. Rodney was with 
her housekeeper; Scotia had gone to Kirk-Logie. 
Only Bertha was prepared to receive him. For the 
vague letter had not deceived her. The smallness of 
her own mind enabled her to anticipate and follow 
such petty maneuvers. 

Just before noon-hour, the young man came ; and 
he was not disappointed in the sensation his arrival 
caused. The exclamations, the hurrying hospitality, the 
welcomes, and the apologies which attend unexpected 
arrivals, he had them all. And Bertha added her little 
pinch to the incense burned in his honor, though she 


30 


BLAIR RODNEY ARRIVES. 


3 x 

was wondering all the time what pleasure he found in 
the temporary excitement, to compensate him for the 
writing of unnecessary letters, and a whole night in 
the small tavern in Rodney village. 

Her own plan before a visit was to have everything 
well understood. She liked servants and a carriage 
Waiting her arrival ; and she preferred stepping out of 
it into a household full of pleasant anticipations of her 
visit. Improvised meals, hurriedly prepared rooms, 
iind plans already formed, without reference to her 
presence and pleasure, did not do her justice. 

But then her cousin was a man, and men—as women 
of all ages have found out—are sometimes queer. As 
he was eating his breakfast, she sat demurely busy 
with her needle, watching him. He was talking to his 
hostess, and therefore Bertha had plenty of oppor¬ 
tunity to make a transient appraisement of his quali¬ 
ties. She found him good-looking enough. Thought¬ 
ful people might have said that his head was too small, 
but then he was remarkably tall and sinewy; and it 
was likely that the tales they had heard of his leaping 
and running, his walking and golf-playing, were 
correct. He looked precisely like an athlete, who 
could march up to a five-barred gate, put his hand on 
the topmost rail, and vault lightly over it. This was 
said to be an ordinary feat of Blair Rodney, and Bertha 
felt that she would like to .see him perform it. 

Scotia had supposed that his talk would be of bul¬ 
locks and sheep, and agricultural games and fairs. 
On the contrary, he talked only of family and kirk 
matters. After the first questions and answers on 
subjects relating entirely to the Rodneys, Blair 
plunged enthusiastically into the controversy between 
the Kirk and the State. He did not seem to care for 


32 


J SISTER TO ESAU. 


any other subject, but on this one he was bigoted and 
passionate and intolerant of all who were not as one¬ 
sided as himself. 

“ How is your minister on the question ? ” had been 
one of his first inquiries. And when he was told that 
Angus Bruce had as yet taken no decided part, his 
scorn for such a position was measureless. “ If ever 
the Kirk needed her sons to stand by her, it was at the 
present hour ! He, for one, would never desert her ! 
All he had was hers, etc., etc.” 

In the middle of such a confession of faith, Angus 
Bruce entered, and the Colonel came in with him. A 
lull in the theological discussion followed, but Bertha 
saw that Blair Rodney was impatient to renew his 
favorite argument, and with a pretty modesty, she 
said : 

“ My cousin was explaining to us, father, the posi¬ 
tion of the State as regards the Kirk. He has made 
me feel as if the Kirk was very unreasonable.” 

“ I mean to say, sir, that the decrees of the great 
courts of the kingdom are not to be set aside by a 
presbytery or two. The laws must be obeyed, even 
by clergymen ! ” 

He looked defiantly at Angus Bruce, and Angus 
answered : 

This is not the age of Nebuchadnezzar, Mr. 
Rodney. He might indeed send forth his couriers to 
the one hundred and twenty provinces of his empire, 
all bearing precisely the same ecclesiastical edict— 
but Her Majesty Victoria has no such power.” 

She is the lawful head of the Church.” 

I say nothing of the English Church. The 
Scotch Kirk can have no head, nor any superior in 
things spiritual but her Lord, Jesus Christ.” 


BLAIR RODNEY ARRIVES. 


33 


I am with you on that point, Mr. Bruce ; ” said 
the Colonel, and he spoke with a decision that could 
not be gainsayed—“ but the Kirk of Scotland is 
beyond our guiding; and as for Victoria, I am her 
ever faithful servant ! Dr. Chalmers— 

“Dr. Chalmers,” interrupted Blair, with some pas¬ 
sion—“ Dr. Chalmers would fly in the face of Provi¬ 
dence, or any other creature who did not think his 
thoughts, and say ‘ Amen ! ’ to his prelections.” 

“ 1 think, Blair, that Dr. Chalmers has a great com¬ 
mission.” 

“ And he rides on the very top of it, sir.” 

“ So he should, so he should ! You must know, 
Blair, that passive obedience is for the army. It is a 
doctrine the Presbyterian Kirk could never abide.” 

“ Well, but, sir-” 

“Tut, tut, Blair! You want to keep up your 
threep like a game-cock, and it will not do in private 
life. Let us go into the fields, and see what the men 
are doing. I have one now, called Jock Lowther, a 
prince among plowmen. It will do you good to 
see his rigs and furrows, they are as straight as if he 
made them with a ruler. Jock got his insight from 
the border farmers about crops and plowing. You 
cannot beat them in managing a field.” 

Blair took the suggestion pleasantly. He rose up 
and shook his big form as a big dog shakes himself 
when disturbed. And as he went out of the room he 
gave Bertha a smile, which she accepted, and then 
transferred to Angus Bruce. For Angus had declined 
the tramp through the fields and plantations. He 
was restless and unhappy, and whenever men are in 
this mood, their instinct leads them to the society of 
women. 




34 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“ Scotia has gone to Kirk-Logie,” she said sweetly. 
“ She goes a great deal to Kirk-Logie. Do you 
know the Cupars ? ” 

“ I have heard of Gilchrist Cupar.” He spoke in a 
tone of disapproval, for Gilchrist had an evil reputa¬ 
tion. He did not ask if Scotia went to the Cupars, 
he took the fact for granted, upon the suggestion of 
Bertha’s question. And Bertha said no more, there 
was no need ; she perceived that the minister had in¬ 
stantly given place in his heart to the thought she had 
sown there. 

“ Was Miss Rodney aware that your cousin was 
coming to-day ? ” 

It was not a question he had a right to ask, and so 
Bertha knew why he had compelled himself to ask it. 

There was a letter from Cousin Blair,” she answered. 
“I understood from it he might be here to-day.” 

She told the exact truth, and yet in telling it, in¬ 
sinuated an absolute lie. What does a jealous woman 
require, except words ? With them she can do any¬ 
thing. Then she turned the subject upon matters 
specially interesting to the minister. She asked for 
instruction on points in his last Sabbath sermons. 
She inquired timidly as to those he would preach 
next. She listened, as men love women to listen, 
humbly, admiringly, with their hearts in their faces. 
Angus did not feel himself to be in any danger from 
such homage, and yet it comforted and pleased him. 

For he was as unhappy as a man must be, who 
loves where both honor and interest forbid him to 
love. Nor could he plead that he had been taken 
unawares, or had fallen ignorantly into that divine 
depth of foolishness, which he ought to have avoided. 
For as soon as Colonel Rodney saw him, the father 


BLAIR RODNEY ARRIVES. 


35 


understood, and the man understood, that there was 
danger, and with a soldier’s directness, he had in¬ 
formed the young minister of his plans with regard to 
his daughters and their cousin Blair. It had been 
very kindly and delicately done ; and Bruce had as 
delicately and positively expressed his comprehension 
of the situation, and his regard for it. 

If the Colonel had said in so many words, “I am 
your patron; I have presented you to this charge; I 
have made you understand that my daughters are 
virtually engaged women; I shall honor you as my 
spiritual teacher and my guest, and shall expect you 
to honor and respect my family arrangements,” no 
clearer comprehension of the position could have been 
arrived at. 

And Bruce believed himself to be strong enough to 
keep his promise to the last tittle that gratitude and in¬ 
violable integrity demanded. He had resolved to be 
blind to beauty and deaf to its charming, and then in 
a moment—when he was utterly unprepared for such 
a revelation, his heart spoke, and he knew that he had 
been a traitor to his word, ever since the first hour 
when Scotia Rodney put her hand into his. 

The knowledge of his love and his faithlessness 
came together. Love opened his eyes and touched 
his lips, and compelled him to speak. Honor laid an 
imperative finger upon them, and compelled him to be 
silent. The two feelings made his soul a battle-ground. 
They strove like giants for the mastery, and Angus 
knew well that victory for either side could only come 
through long and bitter conflict. For spiritual men 
love with an intensity purely material men have no 
conception of. Their love is satisfied with the body. 
The spiritual man will have nothing less than body 


36 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


and soul of the beloved. Not only flesh of his flesh, 
but thought of his thought, hope of his hope, faith of 
his faith, and all—love, thought, hope, faith—striking 
their roots into those immortal instincts which claim 
eternity, because they are able to anticipate it. 

And yet, for this very reason, Angus was afraid of 
his love. The soul of Scotia often irritated him. It 
soared above and beyond his approval. It was too 
large, too free, too daring, even in its aspirations and 
its worship. It attracted, and it repelled him. And 
because he often left her presence angry at her spirit¬ 
ual presumption, he fancied he was in no danger from 
her great physical beauty. Then, after all, it had been 
her personal loveliness which had forced speech from 
him. He knew it was her radiant countenance, her 
glorious hair, her charming figure, her gracious man¬ 
ner, even that air of distinction which proclaimed her 
noble birth, that had intoxicated his senses. And he 
told himself the blunt truth, without excuses. 

“ It was no spiritual love, Angus Bruce, that made 
you false to your promise. It was the lust of the eye, 
and the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life; and 
you had no thought, at that moment, of the pure and 
fervent soul that informed and irradiated the body.” 
It was thus he talked to himself during the midnight 
hours; thus that he stood and accused himself before 
the bar of heaven. And if his Calvinistic faith per¬ 
mitted him no pretenses and no extenuation, it also 
imparted to him the comfort which flows from the 
persistence of the Divine mercy. He was undoubtedly 
the child of grace, and he cried out against the accuser 
in a holy triumph of assurance, “Who shall lay any¬ 
thing to the charge of God’s elect?” 

It was one feature of this first hard battle with him- 


1 


£LA//i RODNEY ARRIFES. 37 

self, that he never permitted the image of Scotia to 
come between his idea of duty and his resolves for the 
future. He would not allow himself to be weakened 
by it. He must do right regardless of human feelings ; 
for his audit would have to be settled with a just God, 
and not with a woman whose love had the witchery of 
earth in it, and whose opinions were very often outside 
the circle of authorized beliefs. 

And all through the same midnight, Scotia was 
sending him thoughts steeped in tenderness, whisper¬ 
ing his name—not on her lips—but with a charming 
modesty deep in her heart. She was wondering over 
his sudden coldness, finding excuses for it; hoping, 
fearing, questioning every look and word, asking her¬ 
self if she had been mistaken, telling herself that it 
was impossible. Ah, this is the vigil of love! to have 
but one thought, to turn it a thousand ways, till the 
sleep of exhaustion puts an end to the monotonous 
torture. 

In the morning Scotia’s first thought was Angus 
Bruce, and the first thought of Angus Bruce was 
Scotia Rodney. Scotia longed to be alone: she 
mounted her pony and went early to ride. She knew 
that among the hills and by the sea-side, there were 
solitudes and consolations she needed. Angus, with 
the courage of his faith and his race, determined to 
face his temptation, and so facing, conquer it. 

But he did not meet Scotia in her home, and there 
was no necessity for him to go out of his way in order 
to provoke anew the struggle of the night. He might 
have rested himself on the fact of his resolution, and 
accepted the excuse which Fate had provided for him. 
He did not do so. When he left Bertha he turned at 
once into the Kirk-Logie road. It was a beautiful 


38 


A SISTEK TO ESAU. 


road at all times, but specially so in its full spring 
glory ; and although Angus Bruce was more accus¬ 
tomed to see God through his Bible and his conscience, 
than through the operations of nature, he could not 
remain insensible to her soothing and elevating 
influence. The overshadowing trees, the plowman 
whistling among the furrows, the daisy-sprinkled mead¬ 
ows, the distant woods opening ravishing perspectives 
of green carpets watered by broken lights, all whispered 
“ peace ” to his restless heart. 

He turned his sensitive face hither and thither, and 
lifted it skyward, and naturally as a bird sings, he 
said : 

For whom are these celestial beams ? 

These perfumed airs? 

This verdure of the fields ? 

This murmur of the hedges ? 

These many-colored clouds ? 

For whom do the flowers adorn themselves ? 

For whom do the birds sing? 

And the spring mount from all roots, 

And rise to all cymes ? 

Even for thine own children, Lord ! ’* 

And then there flashed into his mind the assertion 
that God caused his sun to shine and his rain to fall, 
upon the righteous and the unrighteous; and being a 
man who looked at a thought straight in the face, and 
not at its side angles and mysterious foreshortenings, 
he speedily lost himself in the wonder, “ why God had 
not made the gift of His grace equally universal?” 
For though he was a schoolman and a theologian, he 
had that sincerity which works through layers of 
creeds, to the core of truth beneath. 

And as he stepped slowly to this mental process, he 
was yet aware of the motive that had brought him so 


BLA/J^ RODNEY ARRIVES. 


39 


far, and his ears were consciously listening for the 
sound of a horse’s hoofs. He knew the pace at which 
Scotia rode, the swift, even gallop which only slack¬ 
ened at the foot of Rodney Hill. He had often stood 
to watch her. He liked to see her wave her hand in 
response to his lifted hat, and to feel the fresh wind 
bring him the delicious scent of the woodruff, in the 
swift passing. 

And such expectancy—even against his will—inter¬ 
rupted the grave thoughts to which he was trying to 
bring the whole force of his intellect. Suddenly, 
though there was not a sound but a bird’s song, his 
heart stood still. He had just turned the angle of a 
wood, and he looked sharply down the road. Scotia 
had tied her horse to a gate, and was sitting upon the 
ground near it. Her back was toward him, her head 
bent tenderly over something, which Angus was sure 
she held in her hand. His logical reasoning failed him 
in a moment : he forgot his premises and his deduc¬ 
tions, and found himself wondering “ if she was read¬ 
ing a letter or looking at a trinket.” Insensibly he 
hurried his steps, and as soon as Scotia heard them 
she turned her head, and by its motion, invited his ap¬ 
proach. 

She was holding on her lap a little terrier that had 
been run over, and left to perish miserably by the 
roadside. The creature was quite sensible of her 
pity and her efforts to relieve its distress ; and its 
large, brown eyes, though full of suffering, were fixed 
npon her with gratitude and affection. As Angus 
reached her side, it closed them forever. And Scotia 
was weeping. 

He laid the dead animal among the rushes by the 
stream, and said, rather awkwardly, some words of 


40 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


sympathy to Scotia; She was hot with indignation at 
the man who had mangled his own dog, and left him 
to die without love or help. “ He is one of your 
elders, Mr. Bruce, and you will let him carry the holy 
jup, and serve in the holy place, and count it no sin 
against him.” 

“I will most certainly reprove him severely for his 
want of mercy. But you have an exceptionally tender 
feeling for animals, Miss Rodney.” 

Only pay them a little attention, Mr. Bruce, and 
you will also feel tenderly to animals. Look at 
Adam Cowrie’s cattle ; with what silent good-humor 
they take his blows and his ill words! And as for 
disease and death, men may learn from animals how 
to endure the one, and meet the other. Do they not 
retire apart, surround themselves with silence, and 
pass away as quietly as if they were going to sleep ? ” 

What could Angus answer ? He looked at her 
shining, sensitive face with troubled eyes and twitch¬ 
ing lips, and said softly : 

“You have just shown me a new corner of life. I 
will study it more in the future.” 

“ Do. Take love with you, or you will not under¬ 
stand. But when I cannot reach the love of God, and 
cannot find rest in the love of human creatures, I go 
to the fields and the woods, and the birds and the 
animals never disappoint me.” 

Angus was untying her horse as she spoke, and 
Scotia stood by the upright bole of a young fir tree 
near them. The wind was coming landward from the 
sea, and she made Angus notice how the sapling 
steadied itself against the buffet. For it was yet so 
young a tree that a little bird lighted on it bent down 
the stem. It was a crested wren just from Norway, 


BLAIR RODNEY ARRIVES. 


41 


and they stood and listened a few moments to its 
mysterious song. Then Angus assisted Scotia to her 
saddle, and as he did so, he said : 

“Your cousin Blair Rodney arrived this morning.” 

“ What is he like ? ” 

“A very handsome man—I suppose. I think most 
people would consider him so.” 

“ I did not ask if he was handsome. Is he pleas¬ 
ant, kindly, intelligent ? ” 

“ I cannot judge a man on instinct. His conver¬ 
sation was mostly on kirk matters.” 

“ Is he for a Free Kirk ? ” 

“ Against it—very strongly,” 

“ I dare say he is an intolerant bigot. I hate a 
bigot ! ” 

“ In the moral world, there is no success without 
enthusiasm—that is bigotry. He thinks Dr. Chalmers 
and Dr. Buchanan bigots. But if ideals are to be 
translated into action, men must be willing to go to the 
stake, and rush to the battle-field for them. For this 
reason, Miss Rodney, atheism makes no converts. 
An atheist is without enthusiasm, and therefore with¬ 
out contagion.” 

“ I understand. I can compare atheists with Cove¬ 
nanters and Puritans, and see the difference. Did my 
cousin convince you on any of the questions at issue ? ” 

“ No. Truth, with me, is the product of meditation, 
not of argument.” 

“ Are you returning to Rodney House ? ” 

“ I am going forward to Kirk-Logie.” 

She held the reins in her hand and stood still, look¬ 
ing down into his upturned face. Was it possible that 
he had nothing more personal to say ? No. He pre¬ 
tended to take a last look at her stirrup, and then, with 


42 


A SISTER TO ESA Cl. 


rather a somber smile, raised his hat and wished her a 
pleasant ride home. As he did so, the gentleness in 
her face vanished, she gathered her reins more firmly, 
and answering his wish with a haughty movement, 
rode rapidly out of sight. 

The whole human nature of Angus was in revolt; 
but it was a revolt destined to defeat. For over 
against the human nature of the man stood the 
spiritual nature ; and this nobler part never once con¬ 
templated its subjection to the former. He knew that 
he must suffer, and that he must fight, though it was a 
fight without hope. And he told himself at that hour 
that there could be no hope. If Blair Rodney had but 
the smallest amount of intelligence, he must see, and 
feel, the superiority of Scotia. She had a thousand 
excellencies that Bertha lacked. She had every charm 
a woman could have. In the sight of Angus, she had 
only one fault—an unauthorized and daring freedom 
of thought. There were times when even he—a 
trained minister—feared the words she let fall ; when 
he could not be rid of them, and they tortured him 
with new-found doubts and suppositions. 

He walked onward to Kirk-Logie, though every 
step was heavy and reluctant; and through the tumult 
raging in his heart, he heard distinctly the gallop of 
Scotia’s horse on its rapid homeward way. He had 
come out purposely to meet her. He had fancied 
himself strong enough to undo by a calm, polite 
indifference, the two fro ward words of the preceding 
night; and he felt that he had only succeeded in 
making the girl he so passionately loved understand 
and despise his motive. This was hard to bear, he 
could better endure Scotia’s loss than her scorn and 
contempt. 


BLAIR RODNEY ARRIVES. 


43 


It was far on in the afternoon when she reached 
her home. Mrs. Rodney and Bertha were in a small 
parlor set aside for privacy ; a place of rest and unre¬ 
straint, where no visitor was ever admitted, “ Our 
cousin has come,*' said Bertha, with an affected little 
yawn. “ Mother thinks he is quite gentlemanly, do 
you not, mother?” 

“ He is better than I expected. Your father was 
annoyed at your being from home, Scotia.” 

“ I could not sit at home waiting for Blair Rodney, 
mother. It is five weeks since he threatened us with 
his visit. It has been hanging like an incubus over 
the house ever since.” 

‘‘Were you at the Cupars’ ?" 

“Why should I go there, Bertha ?” 

“ I had an idea you were friendly.” 

“ You must have invented the idea. I rode down 
to the sea-side, and along the sands for five miles^ 
and coming home, I found Donald Begg’s dog, dying. 
He had driven his wagon over it—and left it to die ! 

“ And, of course, you stayed with the dog ? ” 

“ I should think you would have done the same. 
It was so grateful for water.” 

She looked tired and depressed, and Mrs. Rodney 
told her “ to lie down and rest. Your father will ex¬ 
pect you to look handsome, Scotia, and you are really 
sun-burnt and jaded.” 

“ I shall be all right, dear mother, by the time I am 
wanted. Where is father ? ” 

“ With Blair. I dare say they have gone to the 
Stone Pillar.” 

Scotia was eating a lunch beside her mother and 
sister, and she listened without much interest to their 
injunctions regarding her toilet. At the moment she 


44 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


felt indifferent to her appearance. But as she lay with 
shut eyes in her own room, a mischievous sentiment 
of retaliation invaded her. Blair had been the cause 
of many a small annoyance, with his delays and his 
surprises. He had managed to invest his visit with 
an importance which it had no right to. And she was 
sure he considered himself irresistible, and expected 
Bertha to quarrel with her for his favor. 

If it was possible she would make him feel the om¬ 
nipotence of female beauty. She rose with a smile, 
and began her toilet with premeditated care. When 
it was finished, she had the light of certain victory on 
her face. She was no coquette, but she had reasons 
which seemed to her sufficient for the exercise of her 
natural power. Blair Rodney’s self-complacency 
needed discipline, and Angus Bruce!”—she set her 
lips sternly when she whispered his name—“Angus 
Bruce, he needed a lesson, also.” 

As she made these reflections, she was standing be¬ 
fore her mirror. She looked at her lovely face, so 
dazzling white, so delicately pink ; at her dark blue 
eyes; at her rosy lips. Then she turned slightly, to 
see how her hair fell lower than her waist, in waves 
of rippling, curling beauty, and how the pale blue 
silk of her dress hung in long folds of exquisite color 
and shimmer. All was perfect. She looked divinely 
grand and beautiful. But she smiled, and the smile 
undeified her. She had hardly understood her own 
countenance in its light. It reflected a Scotia Rod¬ 
ney that she did not know. 

Coming down the great staircase, she saw her father 
and her cousin Blair passing through the hall. They 
stood still and waited for her ; and in those few mo¬ 
ments Biair Rodney h^d ♦^ime sufficient to reach the 


BLAIR RODNEY ARRIVES, 


45 


bottom of his heart. He had fallen into depths and 
depths of happily-complacent love. “ This was the 
woman he had come to woo—the woman worthy of 
his love. How fortunate she should be the elder! 
And what a charming, affectionate little sister he 
might have in Bertha ! Perhaps he could marry her to 
his friend, Colin Carnegie ”—all these thoughts passed 
through his mind as he waited Scotia’s approach. 
They went in to dinner together. Bertha took her 
father’s arm and laughingly protested she had the 
handsomer escort. 

No doubt of any kind troubled Blair. If the Colonel 
was satisfied, he was more than willing. The road 
to a happy fortune was therefore quite clear. He 
was in high spirits. He joked, and told funny sto¬ 
ries, and sang “ Cam’ ye by Athole,” and even offered 
to recite. He was rubicund and noisy, and full to 
overflowing of that spume of youth which makes the 
cheeks tingle with shame, when men remember, ten 
years afterward. 

Late in the evening Angus Bruce came in, and 
Blair wanted to renew the Free Kirk controversy. 
But Scotia would not permit it. She took Blair aside, 
and held with him, and her mother and sister, a con¬ 
sultation about a picnic at the Stone Pillar. She 
sang to him. She easily induced him to sing 
to her. She was beautifully gracious and charming 
with him, but with Angus Bruce she was totally 
changed. No one but Angus could see or feel the 
change ; no one but Scotia knew she had made him 
feel it ; but oh ! to him, how bitter was the inde¬ 
finable difference ! And as for her, the revenge 
was still sweet in her mouth. A woman who is 
in love, and is angry with her lover, may have a con- 


46 


A SISTEJi TO ESAU, 


science ; but it has miraculous fits of absence. That 
night Scotia’s conscience did not trouble her. If she 
had asked it anything about the minister’s misery, it 
would have an^vered—“ 1 know nothing about it ! I 
was not there ! ” 


IV. 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS. 

“ O, philosophers, go in quest of pleasure ! 

Find us amusements without brutality or 
Folly; and enjoyments without selfishness,’* 

“ Love works miracles.” 

” Her soul is absorbed in her own breast, 

She is the prey of her passions.” 

HE summer inaugurated by this evening was one 



of great apparent gayety, but of much real heart¬ 
sickness, jealousy, and anxiety. Blair Rodney was 
the oniy person thoroughly satisfied with the position 
of affairs ; his measureless self-complacency stood as 
firm as a pyramid on the desert. He had just tact 
enough to feel that occasional absence was an advan¬ 
tage, though he never perceived that his frequent 
visits to Edinburgh were regarded as a great relief. 
For every one, in some key or other, was at a strained 
and unnatural pitch, and the home life suffered that 
constant disarrangement which follows a selfish, com¬ 
placent young man as surely as his shadow. 

As for Angus Bruce, he ceased very soon to take 
any active part in the new life introduced by Blair 
Rodney’s visit. Indeed, he seriously disapproved of 
it ; and was grieved and astonished that the Colonel 
and Mrs. Rodney submitted to such a marked and 
continued interference with the calm, regular habits 


47 


48 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


of so many years. At first, in pursuance of his resolve 
not to run away from temptation, he accompanied 
the young people in their riding, walking, and picnick¬ 
ing. And it pleased the Colonel and Mrs. Rodney 
that he should do so ; for it secured a degree of order 
and decency in the pursuit of pleasure which Blair’s 
boisterous, braggadocio temper was continually apt to 
infringe. 

But it was not long before Angus felt the effort to 
be beyond his strength. The heartache and humilia¬ 
tions, the wounded love and passionate jealousy which 
were to bear—without sign or consolation—were an 
intolerable mental suffering. And they brought him 
no spiritual strength or comfort: 

I am going a warfare on which I am not sent, 
therefore God gives me neither weapons nor grace for 
it.” He came to this decision one night, after an 
unusually painful scene, in which for the first time he 
had been wounded in his office as well as in his 
person. 

For as Blair identified himself with the Rodney 
family, he introduced many changes into the life at 
Rodney House. The spacious parlors of the fine old 
mansion were soon a place of rendezvous for the young 
people of the neighborhood ; and the stately repose 
which had been its atmosphere, was invaded by sounds 
long unfamiliar to its echoes—laughter, and song, and 
love-making ; the delirious melody of reels and strath¬ 
speys, and the merry beating of light feet to them. 

To a man of Angus Bruce’s convictions, who looked 
upon life as the price of eternity, this constant hilarity 
was painful. It brought no smile to his grave face. 
It filled his heart with sorrow and disapproval. But 
it was Blair Rodney’s hour, and he was soon aware 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS. 


49 


that no one was inclined to interfere with Blair. The 
Colonel thought the young man’s riotous mirth the 
natural outcome of his fine health and spirits. Mrs. 
Rodney was captivated by the sounds of the Highland 
dances. They recalled her own youth and her child¬ 
hood’s home, and she could see no harm in an amuse¬ 
ment, which, however gay, had a national sanction. 

“ I used to dance a foursome reel as light as any 
one,” she said, with a sigh ; “and a strathspey could 
set my heart and feet on fire.” 

About the end of June, Blair returned from a short 
visit to Edinburgh, and he brought back with him the 
polka. It was a new dance then, and one which was 
turning society upside down. Nothing like it had ever 
been seen in England or Scotland, and there was a 
perfect furor for polka-dancing. The little jacket 
which was introduced with it, the dotted dress, and 
trimmed boots were irresistible. Scotia and Bertha 
fell completely under the Slavic spell, and there was 
no talk in Rodney House that did not in some way 
refer to the new dance, or the new dress. 

It shared Blair’s heart with the Free Kirk contro¬ 
versy, and his matrimonial prospects. Walking, rid¬ 
ing, and every other pleasure and employment were 
laid aside, in order to practice the polka-step, and de¬ 
vise dresses in which to perform the new dance. And 
it satisfied Blair’s ambition to be its introducer and 
teacher, and to have the young ladies from Carsloch, 
and Braithness, and Locherdale his pupils. For a 
week or two, it really seemed as if the whole duty of 
men and women was to learn to dance the polka. 

The nth of July was the anniversary of the Colonel’s 
wedding day. There was to be a dinner party, and 
Angus Bruce was included among the guests. He had 


5 ° 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


no excuse for declining the invitation, nor did he 
really wish to do so. Many gentlemen of years and 
high position would be present; many ladies whose 
age would preclude the introduction of daffing and 
dancing. It was likely the Kirk controversy would 
fully occupy the hearts of all sensible people. He 
had himself come to a decision on the question, and 
was eager to announce it. Other ministers would be 
present, and for once Blair Rodney would not be 
permitted to override and overrule everything. 

Never had he thought Scotia so beautiful. It was 
the first time that he had seen her in white. She took 
his breath away, when she entered leaning upon Blair’s 
arm, dressed in a long robe of shining white satin. 
And he noticed that the Colonel looked proudly at the 
couple, and then let his glance wander to him, as if 
asking his approval and sympathy. How could he 
give it? No ; he vowed to his heart he w'ould never 
be so false to its longing and its suffering. Bertha 
came in with Sir Thomas Carr. She was in a glow 
of soft pink crape, with lilies at her breast and in her 
smooth black hair. But Angus scarcely noticed her ; 
his eyes were full of Scotia. 

The dinner passed much as he had expected, and 
the Kirk controversy spiced all its generous courses. 
Blair led the State party, and defended its policy with 
all the intemperate zeal of undisciplined years. An¬ 
gus said nothing, until provoked by his sneering as¬ 
sertion that “ the Minister of Rodney Law was a wise 
man, who wouldn’t ‘ go over the Border ’ till he knew 
where he was going to.” 

Then Angus had his opportunity, and he used it 
with perhaps an unmerciful power. But he saw a 
light, a spark, in Scotia’s eyes, which touched his lips 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS, $1 

with fire. The men around the table were as stubble 
before its flame. He held their opinions and thoughts 
by the majesty of his own, and made every one but 
Blair rise to their feet in an enthusiasm of sympathy 
for a Free Kirk. Bertha and some other ladies were 
crying softly when he finished his magnificent plea ; 
but the steady gleam in Scotia’s eyes was an allegiance 
worth far more to Angus Bruce. 

All rose from the table when he finished speaking. 
They were too full of feeling to sit still. But in a few 
moments the reaction came, and the Laird of Fernie, 
a round, rosy old man, said plaintively: 

“ We hae forgotten oor toddy ! Did ony one hear 
tell o’ the like ? I wad gie a pretty thing to hear what 
auld Andrew Agnew wad say, anent sic a like lapse 
o’ dinner duty. He wad hae called us a’ to order.” 

“ He would that,” said Gilchrist Cupar. “ For at 
the finest dinner, he is always in a hurry for the toddy. 
The dessert puts him in a passion—women’s stuff, he 
calls it ; and when the cheese comes in, you should 
hear him rattle off as fast as he can speak—‘ Ye for 
cheese ? Ye for cheese ? Ye for cheese ? Naebody 
for cheese. Tak’ awa’ the cheese, Sandy, and bring 
in the wee kettle.’ ” 

And Gilchrist imitated the old gentleman so cleverly 
and so good-naturedly that every one laughed heartily; 
feeling it, after all, rather a good thing to get away 
from such high considerations as the Kirk and the 
State, to the more humble and comfortable ones of 
the wee kettle and the toddy. 

But none of the young men but Gilchrist stopped 
for the toddy. “They are just drunk with their new¬ 
fangled dance,” he said, as he drew his tumbler to¬ 
ward him. “ I take such things in moderation ; and 


52 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


yet I am apt to join the ladies after the second glass. 
As Sir Andrew says—‘the young men o’ these days 
are just effeeminate.’ ” 

The influence of the minister’s speech was not, how¬ 
ever, to be put quite away. In a short time every one 
rose and went to the picture gallery, where the ladies 
had already gathered. They were standing in pic¬ 
turesque groups, and Blair was going from one to the 
other, talking in a manner which indicated some an¬ 
noyance. In fact, the fiddlers had not come, and the 
dancers were impatiently waiting and speculating as 
to the cause of their delay. 

Angus cast his eyes down the long hall in search of 
Scotia. For the desire of the moth for the light is 
not greater than the longing of the heart for its love ; 
dangerous, fatal, though it may be. He found her 
very quickly, but she was quite a different Scotia from 
the vision he carried in his eyes. Her long pearly robe 
had been exchanged for a short skirt of vivid scarlet 
and a little jacket of black velvet. A square cap of 
velvet was upon her fair hair, and her feet were shod 
in boots trimmed with fur. All the young ladies were 
in a similar costume, but Angus saw none of them but 
Scotia. She looked ravishing, and yet he hated the 
dress ; and hated to see her in it. Some one tried to 
play the peculiar startling melody on the piano, and 
instantly Blair and Scotia were executing the fascinat¬ 
ing movement. Angus tried to shut his eyes—to tear 
himself away—to escape that enthrallment of his 
senses, which, with inexpressibly soft, delicious lan¬ 
guors, was creeping over him. 

Fortunately his anger was quickly roused. He had 
seen Scotia and her cousin Blair dancing before, but 
it was in that mathematical dawdling which is called 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS. 


53 


a “ quadrille ” ; or else in the merry, characteristic 
movements of the national dances ; and his sense of 
the sin of dancing had been limited to the waste of 
time it involved. But this polkaing admitted of a 
familiarity that offended all his views of maidenly 
propriety. Scotia’s short dress, her lifting feet, her 
flushed face, and sparkling eyes were evidences of a 
physical excitement, dangerous and wicked. He was 
on the point of leaving the room when the piano sud¬ 
denly ceased, and Scotia, in a hurried and slightly 
imperative manner, called his name. 

He turned, but still stood within the open door, 
holding it so, as if only half-willing to meet her. She 
came toward him hurriedly : 

“ Are you going home, Mr. Bruce ? ” 

“ Yes. Why should I stay here to see you make a 
mock of what is lovely in womanhood ? ” 

“ Sir ! I think you are—impertinent! " She said the 
word after a moment’s hesitation, as if she had added 
mentally, “ I do not care if it does offend you.” 

“ I did not wish to be impertinent. It is my duty, 
sometimes, to say an unpleasant thing.” 

“ Very well ; you have said it. Now do us a favor. 
The fiddlers have not come, and we are waiting. As 
you pass the ‘ Rodney Arms ’ see if they are there, 
and bid them hurry.” 

He looked with a stern indignation into her face 
while she spoke. Before she had finished her request 
she felt as if every word burnt her tongue. 

Miss Rodney, as your friend, I refuse to call any¬ 
thing that will help you to do wrong. As your minis¬ 
ter, I refuse a commission that will degrade my office 
and dishonor my Master. You have deeply wronged 
yourself by your request.” 


54 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


So he left her, and after a moment’s hesitation she 
opened the door and followed him. Her pride was all 
in arms. She would not be lectured by Angus Bruce, 
if he 7 vas her minister. But he never turned his head 
as he walked slowly down the stairs, and after she had 
taken half a dozen steps, her courage failed ; she 
could remember nothing to say, and she was afraid of 
that stern, white face, with its solemn eyes. 

And her dress, also ! She caught sight of her 
figure in one of the long glass panels of the corridor, 
and she felt ashamed. Was she the same woman, that 
her best self had approved a few hours ago, in the 
long gown of pearly satin ? No. She felt that she 
was not the same ; that something indefinable, some¬ 
thing she could not bear to lose, had been put off; 
and that something she would not like to retain had 
been assumed. 

No woman is always at her best, and Scotia was 
often enough subject to those contradictions of will 
and conduct, which made her so difficult to compre¬ 
hend. She had all the faults which were the shadows 
of her virtues. In her nature the gold and the clay 
were thoroughly mingled. She loved all that was 
noble and good, and yet, with a conscious willfulness, 
very frequently did what was contemptible and bad. 

After she had so scornfully driven away the minis¬ 
ter, she went to the private parlor and sat down there. 
Her thoughts were rapid, her decisions very closely 
followed them. In a few minutes she sent for Bertha 
and told her she was not well, and felt unfit to remain 
any longer with their company. “You must fill my 
place and your own also, Bertha, and do not let Blair, 
or the Braithmoss girls, or anybody else, trouble me. 
I want to be alone. I am sick of so much company.* 


A POLKA AND ITS KESULTS. 5 $ 

It is simply dreadful to spend life dancing, and eating, 
and making love, and telling jokes." 

“ Well, dear, you know the rest of us have not yet 
found that out. I am sorry you are sick and weary. 
You will be better in the morning." 

“Very likely, if you will keep every one away." 

Bertha was quite willing to do so. She felt some¬ 
thing depressing was lifted from her by Scotia’s ab¬ 
sence, and the other young women had a similar sense 
of relief. Scotia’s great beauty, her high spirits, her 
air of authority, her position as eldest daughter, over¬ 
shadowed their paler pretensions. The absence of 
so marked an individuality gave to every one of them 
a feeling of fuller life. They would no longer be 
measured by Scotia Rodney, and found wanting. 
Even Blair was more of Blair than he felt himself if 
Scotia’s eyes were upon him. 

For such reasons the noblest woman in any set need 
never hope or fear that she will be missed from its 
counsels, or its merry-making. Virtues, accomplish¬ 
ments, beauty above the average, bring their pos¬ 
sessor only a nominal repute. In reality, every woman 
less good, less gifted, less lovely, hates her for her 
evident superiority. 

Bertha, having gone away, Scotia sat still until 
her mother’s visit was over. Mrs. Rodney advised 
her daughter to take some simple medicine, and 
go to her room ; and Scotia was apparently very 
willing to accept the advice. But as soon as her soli- 
cude had been secured, she was a different girl. She 
threw off with a passionate contempt her Polish dress, 
and put on in its place the gray winsey in which her 
daily walks were taken, a long gray mantle of the 
same cloth, and her rough, straw, gypsy bonnet. Then 


56 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


she put out the dim light by which she had made this 
simple toilet, and stood by the window looking into 
the dark grounds, as she slowly drew on her gloves. 

Softly, by rooms and stairways well known to her, 
she reached the garden. The visitors were either 
dancing or playing whist; the servants were watching 
the new dance. No one gave her a moment’s thought. 
Even those who loved her were satisfied in the belief 
that she was within the healing influences of darkness 
and rest. 

The soft, cool night ! Oh, how heavenly, how holy, 
how comforting was its influence ! There was no 
moon, and no sound, and the air was full of the sweet, 
wandering souls of a thousand flowers. But Scotia 
noticed nothing that nature said to her. She walked 
swiftly through the garden, and through the dark 
park, and down the lane that led to the manse. When 
she arrived there, she hesitated a moment. For the 
first time she let herself contemplate the thing ^she 
was about to do. 

There was a solitary candle on a table in the manse 
parlor, and as she approached the door, she could see 
it. A trembling uncertainty seized her. She was 
heart-sick with the doubt of it. 

“ Either go back, or go forward, Scotia Rodney,” 
her soul said imperatively to her. “ Do as you desire, 
but do it.” 

Then she went forward, and knocked once at the 
closed door. 

Angus Bruce was sitting with his arms clasped above 
his head, and his face lifted into the shadows of the 
room. His body was quite still, but his soul was 
wandering upon a dark and lonely road. The mists 
jof sorrow had gathered around him, he was going into 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS. 


57 


cloud after cloud of them. He heard the knock, and 
it brought him sharply back to his duty. He lifted 
the candle and listened a moment. Old Grizel’s rheu¬ 
matism was bad, Adam’s sight was failing him, there 
was no movement in the kitchen ; he went to the door 
himself. 

He supposed that some one of his parishioners was 
ill,—a child perhaps, who was not baptized,—and his- 
mind was set to the necessary key. When, therefore, 
he saw in the gloom outside the white, lovely face of 
Scotia Rodney, he was speechle.ssin his amazement. 

“ May I come in a moment, Mr. Bruce.” 

His lips moved, and he closed the door and went 
with her into the parlor. But he could find no words. 
He knew that the hour of temptation had come to him, 
and in the first moments of it his soul was afraid. And 
his manner was solemn and distant ; how could Scotia 
know that there was a heart of unflaming fire behind it ? 

She felt that she must hurry, or lose command over 
herself. Nervously fingering the strings of her bon¬ 
net with one hand, and holding her mantle tight with 
the other, she said quickly, almost abruptly : 

“Mr. Bruce, I was very rude to you. I am very 
sorry. I could not rest until I told you so. Forgive 
me ! ” 

At the first words her eyes were dropped, but with a 
sudden determination she lifted them to his face. It 
was an almost stern face they rested on, but a look of 
trouble came into it as she spoke. 

“All that I can forgive, I forgave at once.” 

“ I was in a passion, and I was unkind. I wounded 
a noble heart without caring, but immediately I was 
angry at myself.” 

“ I think the passing unkindness of the passionate. 


58 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


is perhaps more kind than the wisdom of those who 
are always calm and indifferent. People who have no 
faults are terrible.” 

“ I am forgiven, then ? Quite ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

He could say no more—he durst say no more. To 
give^tiis heart speech, would be like the letting out of 
water. He said “ yes,” and cast his eyes upon the open 
book on the table. For her lovely face, sensitive with 
feeling, her sorrowful eyes, seeking his for some sym¬ 
pathy, the slight flush and disorder of her hurried 
walk, appealed to him with a power that made him 
tremble with the strain. His heart beat with fierce 
throbs ; in his ears the reverberation was like the regu¬ 
lar blows of a great hammer. A moment’s silence in 
such circumstances is a long time ; Scotia endured it a 
moment, and then said wearily : 

“Thank you ! I will go home, then.” 

“ I will walk with you. You should not have come 
alone—in the dark—so late.” 

“ If I had waited for company—for the light—for 
to-morrow morning, I might never have come at all. 
Have I done wrong?” 

“ No.” 

“ Have I done right ?” 

“ Yes. But I will walk back with you.” 

He lifted his hat, and they went together into the 
night. A great peace was between them. He drew 
her hand within his arm, and they walked on through 
the lonely lane and the darker park into the sweet 
garden, quiet and happy, as if they were’walking in a 
dream. Suddenly from the thick woods there rose a 
song; mysterious, solemn, heavenly, sweet, and joy¬ 
ful. 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS. 59 

“ It is a nightingale ! ” said Scotia. “ He is sing¬ 
ing to his mate.” 

She spoke very softly. They were within the gar¬ 
den, standing in a lonely walk, bordered with roses. 
To both had come at the same moment the thought 
that there they must say “Good night.” Bruce lifted 
his hat. Scotia pulled, in an apparently purposeless 
manner, a couple of white roses. She laid her hand 
again upon his arm, her eyes, luminous as those of a 
child, caught his eyes ; her face, fair, sweet, loving, 
was the only thing he could see. Almost in a whisper 
she spoke : 

“ Forgive me, again.” 

“ Scotia Rodney ! Oh, Scotia ! Scotia ! ” and he 
took the roses from her hand, and kissing them pas¬ 
sionately, turned abruptly from her, and walked with 
rapid steps into the darkness. 

She stood still, smiling. His swift footsteps had 
music in them. “ He loves me ! He loves me ! He 
loves me ! ” All the secret way to her room she kept 
repeating the words : “ He loves me ! And I will make 
him say so ! What words in life could be half so sweet! 
For I love him ! I think I have always loved him. 
There are faces one dreams of in childhood. I used 
to dream of Angus Bruce. To-night I know that I 
love him. The moment I had spoken insolently I 
wanted to say so. Those cruel words were like the 
rude pushing open of a door. They let me into my 
own heart. What a strange night ! Love—at least 
the knowledge of love—has come to me, as it comes 
to most, I think—at a moment unexpected and by a 
road never looked for. 

She was undressing herself to such thoughts. The 
company were leaving. She knew that she must 


6o 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


hasten her night toilet, or Bertha would be full of 
questions she did not intend to answer that night. 
She made haste, and lay down in the darkness and 
tranquillity, and smiled happilyjto herself when she 
remembered the minister’s face and his quick theft of 
her roses, and the kiss he gave them as he hastened 
from her presence. 

“ The kiss was my kiss ! I will let the roses keep 
it a little while. He will kiss them again and again, 
and tell them how much he loves me ; and to-morrow 
I will ask him for the roses. I will say, ‘ Perhaps 
they may hold a secret that ought to be mine.’ ” 

The clock struck midnight, and then she noticed 
that the house was quiet, and that all the gay, noisy 
farewells ” of departing guests were over. So Bertha 
was not coming to see her that night ; she could go 
to sleep and dream of Angus Bruce. Very likely 
Bertha was already asleep. 

On the contrary, Bertha was wide awake, for there 
had came to her a new idea, an overpowering desire 
and determination. It had been stirring in her heart 
for some weeks, but it had suddenly taken form, as¬ 
sumed an imperative attitude. Scotia’s retirement 
from the festival had revealed to her in the clearest 
possible manner the pleasure of being first and fore¬ 
most. It was delightful to be deferred to, to be 
consulted, to usurp the enviable homage of Blair 
Rodney. Among the young people, she had that 
night felt herself mistress of Rodney, and a deter¬ 
mined ambition to reach that position took possession 
of her. 

Now, when Bertha Rodney had a desire, she gave 
neither herself, nor any other creature able to forward 
it, any rest until her interests were considered. Mrs. 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS. 


6i 

Rodney was weary, but Bertha followed her to her 
room and fretted her into a discussion of the worry 
which kept her young heart awake and anxious. 

“ You see, mother, I cannot sleep. All my future 
is at Scotia’s mercy ; and you know how Scotia is—so 
I unreliable. One day, I think she has made up her 
mind to marry Blair ; and I try to imagine Sir Thomas 
will suit me better than Blair ; and then the next day, 
she is positively rude to Blair ; and Blair comes to me 
for comfort, and I think my chances as good as Sco¬ 
tia’s. It may be fun for Scotia to play with a lover 
and a sister, like a cat with two mice ; but I do not 
enjoy it—nor does Blair.” 

“ Why, then, does not Blair put an end to Scotia’s 
game by asking her the direct question, which would 
compel her to say ‘ Yes ’ or ‘ No ’ ? ” 

“ Because he is afraid. I really think father advises 
him about Scotia, and you might advise me, mother. 
No one cares for me much, but you.” 

“ Do not say anything like that, Bertha. Your 
father and I love both our children equally. You 
must guard against such imprudent speech.” 

“ Yes, dear mother, but what must I do ? ” 

“ You wish to marry Blair, and be heiress of Rodney 
Law ? Speak sincerely.” 

“ Yes, I do.” 

“ There is just one way to insure your desire. Go 
to your sister. Tell her you love Blair, and want to 
be his wife. Tell her you are made miserable by her 
indecision, and throw yourself upon Scotia’s love and 
generosity,” 

“ Will she do as I wish ? ” 

“ Do you know Scotia so little as to doubt it. If 
you trust her, you may rely on Scotia Rodnev to the 


62 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


last thing she can do for you, and the last farthing she 
can give you.” 

Mrs. Rodney’s face was somber and a little sad ; 
and she spoke as if she did not altogether approve her 
own advice. 

“ Mother, would you be sorry, if I married Blair?” 

“No, I think it best you should marry Blair. The 
family will be well served in every material way by 
Blair. You will make him a good wife Scotia would 
quarrel with him. And Scotia may do much better. 
Your father can give her a little money, and I have a 
plan for securing her a season in London. Scotia is 
handsome enough to become a duchess.” 

Women are unreadable even to themselves. Some 
impulse, which Mrs. Rodney did not analyze, made 
her find a certain pleasure in giving Bertha this little 
pang of jealousy—in making her feel that she did not 
sanction her advance to Mistress of Rodney House, 
without considering, also, the interests of her sister. 
It might be only a lawful and proper desire to snub 
Bertha’s selfishness, and yet there might be, deeper 
still, an unacknowledged dislike to the vision of a 
future mistress of Rodney. For such a vision implied 
not only the death of her husband, but also her own 
removal to her dower house, in order to make way for 
the new mistress. And in such case, a woman’s own 
daughter, though better than a stranger, must be in 
some measure asupplanter. 

Bertha noticed the tone and the matter of her 
mother’s speech. It annoyed her very much. “ I 
thought,” she said moodily, “you would care for my 
worry and anxiety, mother.” 

“ I do care for it. But I care also for your sister’s 
interests.” 


A POLKA AND ITS RESULTS, 


63 


And if I marry Blair, you are going to give her a 
season in London ? You never thought of such a 
thing for me, mother.” 

“I shall have to take upon myself a great humilia¬ 
tion, in order to secure for Scotia a proper chaperone. 
And only Scotia’s great beauty makes such a trial 
worth facing. I do not think you would succeed at 
Court. Marry Blair Rodney if you can. It is as 
great fortune as you can expect, Bertha. You see, I 
speak with sincerity to you.” 

“ With great sincerity.” 

“ It is very late—too late to fence with words to¬ 
night. Indeed, at the last, if advice is worth any¬ 
thing, it must come to just such plain words.” 

“ Tell me one thing, mother—who is it you are go¬ 
ing to ask to chaperone Scotia in London ? And why 
is the asking a great humiliation ? ” 

“ I am going to ask my sister, Lady Yarrow ; and it 
is a great humiliation, because we have not spdken or 
written a word to each other for thirty-five years.” 
Mrs. Rodney’s face was gray and angry, and she rose 
hastily, and began to prepare herself for rest. 

“ I am sorry I asked you, mother.” 

“ Well, Bertha, it is not pleasant to rake the ashes 
of memory. And your Aunt Yarrow is a queer woman. 
Whether she would accept my late offer of reconcilia¬ 
tion, and whether, if she did, Scotia would be any bet¬ 
ter for her friendship, I cannot tell. It is a doubt with 
me—a long doubt—a doubt for the chin to rest itself 
upon the palm of the hand. Good-night, child.” 

Shall I go to Scotia to-night ?” 

“ Have some patience with your fortune. To-mor¬ 
row will surely do.” 


V. 


A MESS OF POTTAGE. 

Hard state of life ! If Heaven foreknows my will. 

Why am I not tied up from doing ill ? 

Why am I trusted with myself at large ? 

When He’s more able to sustain the charge.” 

“ Prudence ! thou vainly in our youth art sought, 

And with age purchased are too dearly bought.” 

** Promises, once made, are past debate, 

And truth’s of more necessity than fate.” 

OREAKFAST at Rodney House was a very in- 
^ formal meal, served as each member of the family, 
or each guest desired it. On the following morning, 
Scotia was the earliest claimant. She came into the 
small parlor with the sunrise, dressed for riding, and 
looking exceedingly handsome and happy. For in 
those days a lady’s riding dress was a very becoming 
toilet, and not, as it is now, the very ugliest costume 
she can put on. Scotia’s long habit of dark blue 
broadcloth fitted her fine figure to perfection, and was 
long enough to be lifted gracefully over her left arm. 
There was a little linen collar at the throat, closed 
with a strip of pale blue silk, tied in a hunting knot. 
Her hair was beautifully coiled, and in her hand she 
carried a soft cap of blue cloth, trimmed with one 
long plume of the same color. 

Rarely had she looked so radiant, so full of life and 

64 


A MESS OF POTTAGE. 65 

joy. Some lavish planet had surely reigned when she 
was born, and made her of mould kindred to heaven. 
She seemed to be a part of the sunshine, and of the 
morning-glory, with its scent and song and sweetness. 
The butler gave her with pleasure the service she 
desired. He was an old man who had been a cor¬ 
poral in the Colonel’s regiment in India ; and Scotia, 
with a natural tact born of a gentle heart, always gave 
him the title he had won. 

“Good-morning, Corporal Scott ! Can you let me 
have some breakfast, early as it is ?” 

“ Ony gude thing ye like. Miss Rodney. A bit o’ 
kippered salmon, and a poached egg, and buttered 
toast, and the marmalade, and the like o’ that ? ’’ 

“ And a cup of tea also, Corporal.” 

He brought all with a delightful officiousness, and 
watched her enjoyment of the meal with an air of sat¬ 
isfaction. And it gave him a great deal of pleasure 
to see her mount her pony and ride away alone. The 
groom was waiting to attend her, but he was dismissed 
with the usual formula : 

“ Thank you, Jarvie, but I am only going to the 
sea-side.” 

“Ye hae the back-send again, Jarvie,” said the 
corporal complacently. 

“ Miss Rodney is vera uppish in her ways, Mr. 
Scott ; but I’m no carin’. Ye hae to tak’ women¬ 
folk at a venture, as it were ; listen to their flights 
and fancies, and mak’ a deegnified bow. I ken weel 
the Colonel wad preefer I was talcin’ care o’ the young 
leddy ; but what then ? In the lang run, it’s neither 
here nor there.” 

They were standing in front of Rodney House, 
watching Scotia ride slowly under the firs shadowing 


66 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


one of the avenues of the park ; the corporal smooth¬ 
ing out the Daily NewSj which had just come; the 
groom holding his saddled horse by the bridle. The 
same thought was in the mind of both men—her sex, 
and the pity of it. 

“ Will she marry Mr. Blair, think ye, Corporal ? ” 

‘‘She has mair sense, Mr. Jarvie.” 

“ What think ye o’ oor new minister, Corporal ? ” 

“ He has a vera connect method o’ enforcing doc- 
trine ; and he isna sploring awa’ anent the danger o’ 
the Kirk. That is ane comfort.” 

“ Have ye been hearing o’ the. work, Corporal, how 
it has been growin’ and prosperin’; meetin’ after 
meetin’, night after night ? ” 

“ I hae heard, 1 hae heard, Mr. Jarvie. I hae been 
told. I hope it is weel, but there is great need o’ 
care; great need—vera great need o’ care.” 

“1 was dreamin’ of oor Miss Rodney and the new 
minister last night.” 

“ Keep your dreams in your ain heart, my young 
man. Mony a ane gets their dreams read, in a way 
they little thocht of. And tak’ your horse back to the 
stable, neither o’ you will be wanted this morning.” 

Jarvie turned away rather sulkily. He felt it a 
trial to be dismissed so often. But on this point 
Scotia had prevailed with her parents, after much 
argument and entreaty. It was understood that Jar¬ 
vie was to attend her, whenever visiting or shopping 
took her beyond the limits of Rodney Law ; but that 
upon their own land, and down to the fishing village, 
and along the sea-shore, she was to have the liberty 
and solitude which made the exercise so delightful to 
her. 

This morning, to be alone with Nature was the 


A MESS OF POTTAGE, 


67 


supreme earthly pleasure her heart desired ; and when 
out of sight, she put her pony to its utmost speed and 
soon reached the sea-side, and the long stretch of 
sand, and the great wall of rocks, full of strange 
caverns, that guarded the coast. The pony then 
stepped slowly through the spent waves, and Scotia 
dropped the reins loosely and began to think. It 
pleased her to blend the idea of Angus Bruce with 
these great spaces of enpurpled water, with the sap¬ 
phire streak on the horizon, and the shadowy fishing 
boats stealing away into the luminous haze. She was 
a mile above the village. Its bluff-browed, bonneted 
men were on the water, or else fast asleep; its women 
were in the village selling fish. There was no human 
noise audible ; only the crying and cawing of the sea 
gulls, fluttering in long files above the tumbling green 
waves. 

The peace of the place was perfect. It was a noble 
chamber in which to question her heart. The fear of 
man—the terror of evil tongues, and scornful women 
seemed infinitesimal in such companionship. The 
everlasting hills, the mighty sea, the eternal spaces 
around, helped her to a decision based only upon the 
noblest part of her own nature, and the immutable 
dignity of Truth. Come weal or woe, she felt that if 
she were faithful to love, and honor, and truth, all 
would be well in the end. 

As she mused, the weather suddenly changed. The 
waters became black, the gulls, troubled in their minds, 
began to wail piercingly ; the wind, with an iron 
voice, called up the sea, and jostled and pushed the 
clouds, and brought ram on its broad wings. Scotia 
rode rapidly to the village ; she felt as if the waves 
were now chasing her beyond their own “ thus far.” 


68 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


In the midst of a pelting shower, she entered the first 
cottage she came to. 

She stepped into the chamber of death. A young 
man, the youngest son of his mother, lay at that one 
narrow door which opens to eternity. The dismal, 
solemn stillness was only broken by his labored 
breathing. He was already within the portal ; Death 
stood between him and earth. The mother sat in a 
low chair tearless, smitten by the suddenness and 
horror of her grief, into total indifference to all human 
considerations. She saw Scotia enter ; but what was 
any mortal being to her ? Was not her child on the 
verge of everlasting torment ? 

Some men and women neighbors .sat by the wretched 
mother. They were awe-struck, and had no comfort 
to offer her. The minister stood by the foot of the 
death-bed. He also was sombre and silent. His 
eyes were full of anguish, but his lips were stern, 
and his attitude hopeless. No one noticed that Scotia 
was wet. AVhat was a little rain water in the presence 
of the Avenger of Sin? 

Scotia touched the minister a little imperatively. 
“What is the matter with Jock Thomson ? ” 

“ He has been stabbed in a drunken fight ; he is 
dying.” 

“ Pray for him ! ” 

“ Alas ! He is bound over to the wrath of God, 
and by his sin, made subject to eternal death. 
He has come to the end of God’s mercy and 
patience.” 

“ It is not true ! There is no end to the patience 
of God ! no end to His mercy ! ” She slipped down 
by the side of the dying man, she took his cold hands 
in hers : 


A MESS OF POTTAGE-. 6g 

“Jock! Jock Thomson! Do you hear me? I 
am Scotia Rodney.” 

Some transient gleam o£ assent passed over Jock’s 
face, and she continued : 

“Jock, I am telling you the eternal truth—God 
is love ! always love! Love to the last moment. 
David says, even if you make your bed in hell, God is 
there to hear you. Jock, you have made your bed in 
hell, but do not fear, and above all do not doubt. 
God will hear you. Cry to Him ! It is not too late ! 
It is not, indeed ! ” 

Jock opened his eyes and tried to speak. 

“ I will cry for you, only say the words after me in 
your soul. God be merciful ! God be merciful to 
me, a sinner ! a great sinner ! a great sinner, but not 
too great for Thee to pardon ! ” 

And the dying man caught the spirit of the words, 
and he prayed with her. • 

“You believe, Jock? It is true as death that 
God’s love is greater than death ; that God is able 
and willing to save to the very uttermost. Think of 
that, Jock, to the uttermost all who come to him.” 

The departing soul was stayed by this majesty of 
faith and love. It made a last supreme effort of 
surrender. 

“Jock, listen to me ! You are nearly dead, but re¬ 
member Calvary and the cross on the lonely hill-top, 
and Jesus Christ all alone, through the dark, suffering 
for your sins. Cling to the cross ! Cling to the 
pierced feet on it ! Say once more—Even me, O 
Christ! ” 

He was listening with all his spiritual senses. He 
was trying to speak through his last convulsive sobs. 
He went out of life with the promise of love and for- 


70 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


giveness in his ears. Scotia was weeping as she 
talked to him. His mother had risen from her chair, 
and stood with lifted hands, not daring to pray. The 
minister had covered his face. The watchers with 
the mother had fallen upon their knees. While Scotia 
was saying with the dying lad, “ Even me, O Christ! ” 
he went to the mercy of The Crucified. She closed 
his eyes with a prayer, and then turned with her wet 
face to his mother. She led her to a chair, and whis¬ 
pered, God knows what words of hope and comfort- 
But the woman looked in the minister’s face, and 
doubted them. Surely he must know best. And 
what should a young girl like Scotia Rodney under¬ 
stand of the high things of God’s election and God’s 
mercy ? She shook her head, and covered her face 
with her apron, and gave herself up to unrestrained 
weeping. 

The storm was still severe, but Scotia felt as if it 
would be a joy to face it. Angus suggested a visit to 
the widow Johnson’s cottage. “ She will dry your 
habit,” he said, “and make you a cup of tea.” 

“ Can you think of such things in the very article 
of death?” She asked the question almost angrily. 
“ Help me to mount, if you please. I must go home. 
I must be alone. It is the first time I ever met 
Death.” 

He did as she asked him. He scarce lifted his 
eyes to her face. But just as she was leaving, with 
the rain driving on every side of them, in the gloom 
of the storm, he said : 

“ Miss Rodney, you have troubled me much by 
what you said. Was it right, to give a wicked man 
such hope ? ” 

“ It was right. Christ died not only for our sins. 


A MESS OF POTTAGE. 


71 


but for the sins of the whole world—the whole world, 
Mr. Bruce ! That is God’s zone of mercy. Dare you 
limit it ?” 

He was standing by her side when she began the sen¬ 
tence, his pale face sternly thoughtful, lifted through 
the smur and drive of the rain, his head uncovered, 
his black hair wet and clinging, his eyes shining and 
misty. Ere she had finished, the horse, impatient in 
the storm, had started ; and the solemn, imperative 
question was carried back to him on the wind’s wet 
wings, and flung like a buffet in his face. 

All his way home it buffetted his soul, so that he 
was not conscious of his physical struggle with the 
storm. And he was also angry. What right had a 
girl like Scotia Rodney to trouble his firm convictions 
with questions that would haunt him like ghosts? 
And what right had she to usurp his office at the bed 
of death, and cry “ peace” where there was no peace? 
He had been interfered with ; he had been set aside, 
put below, and out of his place, before his parishion¬ 
ers. Some of them might say he had submitted to it, 
because Scotia was the daughter of his patron. It 
made him burn with indignation. He knew that 
neither for the love of woman, nor the favor of man, 
would he abate one tittle of the faith due to his 
creed, or the respect due to his office, and yet he had 
been placed in a position that gave men and women 
occasion to say so. The rain and wind that beat upon 
and drenched and tore his garments, and wearied his 
body, was but a symbol of the spiritual storm which 
distracted and mortified his soul. 

But Scotia was exalted and lifted above all 
mortal considerations. A solemn joy pervaded her. 
She had stood by the side of Death and not feared 


72 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


him ; and she felt at that hour how well the hardest 
life may be endurable with death to crown it. Near 
home she met Jarvie and another groom coming to 
seek her ; and she anticipated some of the worry and 
care with which the truest affection often interferes 
with our rare moments of spiritual joy. She had to 
submit to precautions she felt to be quite unnecessary. 
For who takes cold, or receives injury, while the spirit 
has the upper hand. Men and women driven by great 
enthusiasms go through fire and water, and compass 
impossibilities. All our limitations are of the body ; 
but in our diviner moments, when the soul takes com¬ 
mand, it makes but small account of them. 

Yet she was glad of the quiet, and dusk, and 
warmth of her room ; glad to be still and recall her¬ 
self ; to try and understand clearly the circumstances 
through which she seemed to have been carried by a 
power beyond her control. And of course the reac¬ 
tion came, and her face burned when she remembered 
Angus Bruce. What would he think of her ? Would 
he ever forgive her interference ? Yet the words sprung 
from her soul to her lips, and how could she restrain 
them ? No ; she had done right. She was at peace 
with her conscience, though she was sure the minister 
was angry with her. 

And the mother of the dead man ! She had not 
believed in her. Scotia grew angry when she recalled 
the woman’s face. Evidently she had not wished to 
believe in her son’s salvation, if that security imper¬ 
iled one iota of her creed. If she had told the dy¬ 
ing man that there was no God, and no heaven, and 
no hell, the fishermen and the women present could 
hardly have set their strong, stern faces into a more 
denying aspect. None of them wanted poor Jock 


A MESS OF POTTAGE. 


73 


Thomson to have mercy. Jock had been all his life a 
child of wrath, ordained to that end by the eternal 
purpose and justice of the Creator. Should they give 
him hope, through a false creed, even the creed of the 
Arminians ? No ! They had the spirit of their the¬ 
ology, and were very jealous for the honor and the 
justice of the God of Scotland. 

Happy and then unhappy, hoping and then doubt¬ 
ing, Scotia’s mind wandered in confusion and per¬ 
plexity until she fell into a deep sleep. In that 
wondrous condition she found a place full of green 
glooms and dusk-white poppies ; and she lay down 
there, and forgot all her life until some one called 
her name, and she felt constrained to rise and 
answer. 

It was Bertha. She was standing by the bedside, 
and a servant had brought in a tray full of the highly 
spiced meats and the fragrant fruits that Scotia loved. 
All her animal senses were at once aroused by the 
intangible aromas of succulent meat, and the warm, 
fragrant smell of raspberries, and the reviving odor of 
the fresh drawn tea, and the scent of a large white 
lily. 

And Bertha, charmingly dressed, and charmingly 
cheerful and happy, was there with them, and bent 
upon serving her. “ Father and Mother say you are 
to stay in bed, Scotia ; and so I am come to talk to 
you and to watch you enjoy your dinner. Here, 
Jessie, put the table close to the bedside ! Such 
delicious jugged hare, Scotia .*• And here is the breast 
of a pheasant, and some raspberries, and just one 
perfect apricot—the only one ripe. Father sent it to 
you, and Mother made the tea herself.” 

How good you are to me ! Let me have the hare 


74 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


first. Oh, how hungry I am ! I like hare, Bertha. 
It tastes of the woods, as no other flesh does,—not 
even venison,—and how finely spiced this ‘ jugg ’ is ! ’' 

“ And I am going to sit with you. I am going to 
wait on you myself,—that will do, Jessie, you can go 
away, until I ring,—for positively, Scotia, the house is 
dreadfully dull without you.” 

Where is Blair ?” 

“ He went to Edinburgh as soon as he had finished 
his breakfast; and the minister has not been here at 
all; and no one else, for that matter, except Sir 
Thomas Carr. We were all so sorry for you last 
night—you missed the loveliest polka. Blair was 
perfectly charming—and then, when we came to break¬ 
fast this morning, you were off, no one knew where.” 

I went to Buller’s Cave.” 

“ Such a lonely place ! I do not believe Blair likes 
you to go about so much by yourself.” 

My doings do not concern Blair Rodney.” 

He thinks they do—or, at least, that they ought 
to. I am sure he went away in a ‘ huff ’ at you.” 

Scotia laughed good-naturedly. With that deli¬ 
ciously-spiced food in her mouth, she could not feel 
very angry at Blair’s presumption, and she carelessly 
answered : 

“ Poor Blair ! He thinks a certain thing, and then 
he is quite sure the whole of his world must think 
with him.” 

There was a short silence. Scotia had finished the 
last morsel of hare, and with a sigh of satisfaction was 
rearranging her tray—the breast of pheasant, and the 
cup of tea, then the raspberries, and the apricot. She 
glanced from these anticipated delicacies to Bertha. 
Her pretty face had become thoughtful, almost sad. 


A MESS OF POTTAGE, 75 

Scotia began to tell her about poor Jock Thomson’s 
death. 

The story did not interest Bertha. She cut it 
short. “ It is just like that class of people,” she said 
contemptuously. “ If they dispute about a couple of 
herrings, they explain themselves with their fish knives. 
And Madge Thomson, Jock’s mother, is a dreadful 
old woman. She drove her other four sons to the 
four quarters of the world. How can you care for 
such people ? That is another thing Blair dislikes in 
you.” 

“ I do not intend to order my life to Blair’s likes or 
dislikes. Why should we talk of him ? Sir Thomas 
is a nicer subject. Are you going to become Lady 
Carr, Bertha ? ” 

“ That depends upon yon, Scotia.” 

Scotia’s face sobered a little. “ But what have I to 
do with it, Bertha?” She was cutting up her pheas¬ 
ant slowly, and she paused and looked straight into 
her sister’s face. 

Everything, Scotia ! everything ! My fate is in 
your hands. If you marry Blair—I shall marry Sir 
Thoma.s.” 

“ If I marry Blair ? ” 

“ Yes, dear. If you marry Blair, then, of course, 
I cannot marry Blair, and must take the next 
best.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ But if you do not accept Blair, then—then, I hope 
Blair will marry me. You know he will not inherit if 
he does not marry either you or me. Oh, Scotia! if 
you only knew your own mind how happy you might 
make your poor little sister.” And at that moment, 
with her baby face and her tearful eyes, and small 


76 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Stature, she did indeed look a “ poor little sister,” 
and Scotia’s heart smote her. 

What do you want me to do, Bertha ? ” 

“To give up Blair—unless you are going to marry 
him. Are you going to marry him, Scotia ? ” 

Now Scotia was hardly prepared to give an irrevo¬ 
cable decision at a moment’s notice. It seemed 
unfair to herself, to her father, even to the interested 
claimant for her hand. She had persistently put off 
this decision. She did not like being taken to cate¬ 
chism in a manner so prompt and final. She remained 
silent so long that Bertha again took up the subject. 
And by this time she had thrown off any repugnance 
to its discussion that would hinder her own claim or 
interest. She was prepared to use every art to win 
what she desired. 

“I do not mind confessing to you, Scotia, that I am 
dreadfully in love with Blair. I shall be miserable if 
I do not marry him ; but then, you will be happy, 
and that will be some consolation.” 

“ I thought you were in love with Sir Thomas Carr. 
I am sure he loves you truly.” 

“ But only think, Scotia ! He told me to-day that 
he had accepted a secretaryship in India. Mother 
says when she went to India she was as plump and as 
pretty as I am ; and that in five years she was like a 
mummy. I could not bear such a prospect—unless 
you marry Blair. Then I shall be thankful to get out 
of the sight of your happiness. I am such a weak 
little thing, and I could not bear to be tempted. I 
might learn to envy my own dear sister.” 

“ Then you really love Blair ?” 

“ I have loved him from the first hour of our meet- 


A MESS OF POTTAGE. 77 

And I do not love him—and I never can love 
him ; but for father’s sake I have hesitated.” 

“ Oh, dear sister, think of me first! It is only a 
little land father cares about. It is my love, my life, 
or at least what is to make my life happy.” 

You know that if I give up Blair, I give up also 
my inheritance ? ” 

“ Dear Scotia, I know. I ask you to do a great 
thing. But you say you do not love Blair. If you 
did love him I should be ashamed to ask you. I 
should just marry Sir Thomas and go away to India. 
Mother has been crying over the prospect all day. 
Because, with the least encouragement from you, Blair 
will ask you to be his wife ; and father will urge you, 
and you never could deny father, I know. I have 
been terrified every day lest Blair should speak before 
I did. When he went to Edinburgh this morning, I 
said to mother, what a piece of good fortune it was, 
and then I resolved to open my heart to you to-day. 
You must know how anxious Blair is to have things 
settled with you ? ” 

“ Yes, I have known that some time. I will promise 
you, Bertha, he shall have things settled with me as 
soon as he returns.” 

You will accept him?” And Bertha lifted her 
kerchief to her face, and began to weep with a child¬ 
ish helplessness that went to Scotia’s heart. 

“ I will refuse him, then—there—and forever. I 
will send him to you for love and sympathy. Blair 
has a miraculous sense of his own interests. He is 
quite as capable as you are of taking the next best. 
Besides, he may really like you better. I think father 
has made quite a point of his marrying me. When 


78 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


he finds out I do not want him, I dare say he will find 
out that he never wanted me.” 

“ Scotia ! Scotia ! I can never thank you enough. 
To think you will really give up Blair to me ! It 
seems impossible ! Say so once more, that I may 
believe it.” 

“ I will certainly refuse Blair Rodney when he asks 
me to marry him.” 

“ You must think me selfish, dear Scotia, I am sure 
you must. But I am such a timid little thing, and the 
thought of having to give up Blair, and having to go 
to India, made me miserable.” 

“ Be happy, then. You can marry Blair, if Blair is 
willing ; and stay at Rodney Law.” 

After this absolute surrender, the feeling in the 
room changed. I'here was a restraint in it, which 
Bertha wished to escai)e from—the painful restraint 
of simulated gratitude. As for Scotia, no sooner was 
her sacrifice completed than she was assailed with 
doubts from every side. Her conscience did not give 
her any approval ; her heart was wounded, and she 
could not listen to Bertha’s iterations, because she 
was blindly feeling about for its hurt. 

In a little while Bertha was sure that Scotia looked 
pale and weary, and ought to sleep. She put down 
the lights, and shook up the pillows, and smoothed 
the spread, and tip-toed about the room with an affec¬ 
tation of loving solicitude that was irritating. But she 
finally tip-toed herself out of the room, and silently 
closed the door behind her. For a few steps she pre¬ 
served the same manner, then her face glowed with a 
sudden delight; she ran swiftly along the corridor, 
and locked herself in her own room. 


A MESS OF POTTAGE. 


79 


“ I have managed it! ” she cried softly. ‘‘ I have 
managed it! I have got all I wanted ! Clever little 
Bertha ! ” And she gently patted her pink cheeks, as 
she looked at herself in the mirror with a great ap¬ 
probation. 


VI. 


EITHER WILL DO. 

** Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.” 

“ Some sins do bear their privilege on earth.” 

The week impress of Love is as a figure 
Trenched in ice ; which, with an hour’s heat 
Dissolves to water, and doth lose its form.” 

*‘ There is no virtue like necessity.” 

— Shakespeare, 

'~PHERE is an instinctive sagacity which anticipates 
-*■ events by a warm impression of them, and this 
instinctive sagacity Scotia possessed in a large degree. 
For several days after her surrender, life went on as if 
she had made no such surrender. But on the Satur¬ 
day evening following, she had a presentiment that the 
time had come for her to finish the act of renuncia¬ 
tion she had undertaken. 

It had been a sultry day, and the gloaming was op¬ 
pressive. The house had already its Sabbath atmos¬ 
phere. The Colonel sat silent and thoughtful by the 
open window. Wherever his soul wandered, it was far 
from Rodney Law. Mrs. Rodney was watching the 
maids fill the vases with fresh flowers, and lay out 
clean linen, and make the other preparations neces¬ 
sary for a peaceful Sabbath. Bertha was in her room 
considering the toilet she would wear to church. The 
8o 


EITHER WILL DO. 


8i 


house was in perfect order ; sweet, clean, and a little 
mournful. 

Scotia, with her bonnet in her hand, went slowly 
through the garden, and when she reached its con¬ 
fines passed into the park. The living gallery of 
great trees invited her. She went thoughtfully into 
it. “ In such green halls the first kings reigned,” she 
said softly ; “ they slept in their shade, and enter¬ 
tained angels.” Then a shadow, almost painful in its 
annoyance, darkened her face. She saw, afar off, not 
any angel, but the very material figure of Blair Rodney. 

He was aware of her presence at the same moment, 
and struck his horse smartly to hurry its loitering 
steps. Scotia waited at the mossy root of a birch 
tree, and when Blair joined her he alighted and 
threw his bridle over his arm. It was evidently his in¬ 
tention to walk home with her. The words he was 
going to say she saw in his eyes and on his lips ; and 
her first impulse was to prevent them by any other 
words that she could remember. She was very ner¬ 
vous, and Blair’s pronounced individuality was for a 
few minutes an oppression. 

There were some blue bells at the foot of the tree, 
hidden among the grass, and Scotia stooped to gather 
them. She was hardly conscious she was doing so ; 
the act was an involuntary one, the outcome of her 
suddenly disturbed condition. But when she rose with 
her hands full of the pale blue flowers, Blair thought 
she was exquisitely lovely, and for once he became 
poetical. “ These beautiful blossoms,” he said “ are 
like woman. As they dwell under the protecting care 
of the tree, so woman should shelter her weakness in 
the protecting love of man. I love flowers, and I 
love-” 



82 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


I love trees, ” interrupted Scotia. “ They are 
far more noble than flowers. Flowers carry all their 
splendor on the outside. Trees have an intrinsic 
grandeur. They do not lean upon us, they are not 
dependent upon us in any way.” 

“ Some trees are very delicate and require much 
care.” 

“ Exotics ! I am not thinking of such. Have you 
noticed the north side of Rodney Hill, with its mantle 
of pines ? If ever I feel weak, I walk among them. 
What a long warfare they have waged with the forces 
of nature ! not singly, but in serried phalanxes, requir¬ 
ing little nourishment, making little display, living by 
union. There is nothing in nature that has such 
power over a noble imagination as a plantation of 
pines.” 

“ Perhaps I have no noble imagination. I confess 
that the pine woods, as well as those dismal yews in 
the kirk-yard, inspire me with dislike and fear. They 
are very ugly, too.” 

No ; they are not ugly, Blair. No tree is ugly, 
except the pollard willow. I like yews ; they have a 
solemn atmosphere, and if you go among them, you 
grow insensibly solemn. How huge they are ! How 
battered ! How venerable ! And it is incontestable 
that they become more and more striking as they 
grow to extreme old age. They are the only trees 
which do so. But you are not listening to me.” 

“ No, Cousin Scotia, I was looking at you ; admiring 
you ; loving you ; wondering if you could ever love 
me!” 

“ I love you, cousin, just as well as there is need to.” 

Enough to be my wife, Scotia ? Dearest Scotia !” 

« Wives and cousins are different things, Blair.” 


EITHER WILL DO. 83 

Make them the same in our case. Scotia, I want 

you to love me ; to marry me-” 

“ But I do not love you, Blair ; and I never could 
love you as a wife should love her husband. So, then, 
I could never marry you.” 

“ Scotia, do you realize what you are saying ? ” 

He spoke with astonishment, with a shade of anger, 
as one might answer an unreasonable child. 

“Yes, Blair. I have thought over the words you 
have now said very often. I knew, of course, that 
you would say them; and I am not talking as a 
foolish woman might talk—just to be coaxed out of a 
false position. I mean what I have said.” 

“ Do you think that I have asked you to be my wife 
because Colonel Rodney wishes me to do so ? I love 
you dearl}^ Scotia.” 

“ You think you love me, Blair ; but I know you 
better than you know yourself. You really love Bertha, 
and she loves you with all her heart. I appreciate the 
kindness and justice which led you to offer your hand 
first to me, because I am the older, and, therefore, the 
natural heiress of Rodney. But let me assure you, I 
shall be better pleased to see Bertha and you its 
mistress and master. Bertha loves you. I do not 
love you. Bertha would marry you if you had not a 
shilling. I would not marry yon—for all Scotland ! I 
would not do you such an injustice ! ” 

“ Bertha is a dear little darling, but-” 

“ Then tell her so, and both of you be happy ever 
afterward.” 

He was contemplating the act, even while Scotia 
spoke. In some respects he would have greatly pre¬ 
ferred Scotia, but in reality neither of the sisters 
filled the highest ideal of Blair Rodney. A woman 




84 


A SJSTER TO ESAU. 


like the Hon. Mrs. Bothwell, who was the glass of 
fashion and the leader of her own particular set, was 
the woman after his heart. Between Scotia and 
Bertha he had come to regard the choice as about 
even. Scotia was the lovelier woman, but Bertha 
would make the more obedient and comfortable wife. 
Scotia was the Colonel’s desire, and for that very 
reason he felt that it would be a pleasant assertion of 
his independence to choose Bertha. In fact, he had 
begun to regard Rodney as his own by right of suc¬ 
cession, and to feel it hard that his right was 
weighted by a wife of any kind. 

He thought he had successfully hid all such feel¬ 
ings, but Scotia divined them in their naked ugliness, 
even as he walked in silent disappointment at her side. 
For some minutes neither spoke. Blair was mentally 
regarding the last card he could play for the inherit¬ 
ance of Rodney. Scotia’s indifference had startled 
him. He was questioning with some anxiety whether 
he could trust Bertha or not. 

“ I love you for yourself alone. Cousin Scotia,” he 
said gloomily, “ and I am distracted and miserable at 
your refusal.” 

Scotia listened with eyes disdainfully cast upon the 
ground ; and though he went on saying fond words, 
and swearing to them, she heeded them no more than 
the rocks at the seaside heed the protesting waves. 
Her attitude finally angered him, and he said with 
some temper: 

“ Perhaps some day, Scotia, you will regret that 
you quarreled with your fate.” 

“ As for that, Blair, fate was not mine, nor am I 
fate’s.” 

“ Your father will be bitterly disappointed. Your 


EITHER WILL DO. 


85 


friends—pardon me—will say you have been a fool ; 
I speak, not as regards myself, but as regards Rodney.” 

“ My father’s disappointment will pass away ; and 
if I am a fool, let me congratulate myself that I am 
one through choice, and not for want of sense. 
Blair, it would indeed be foolish for us to quarrel. 
VVe are not going to marry ; and I think it only fair 
you should keep your bad temper for your wife. That 
is the usual way.” 

They had come into the garden by this time, and 
the scent of the honeysuckle was above every other 
scent. It had a silencing effect. Both inhaled it 
with passive delight. And as they drew near to the 
standard on which it climbed, a figure came from be¬ 
hind it—a figure in a pretty pink muslin gown, with 
some of the fragrant blossoms in her bosom. It was 
Bertha ; and she uttered a little cry of pleasure and 
came toward them. 

“Be kind, Blair,” Scotia said hurriedly, “ and do 
not say you thought it right to ask me first. It would 
be very humiliating to me.” 

And never, in all his life afterward, did it strike 
Blair that Scotia had really made a very noble request. 
For it was impossible for him to conceive of a soul so 
great, that it could not only surrender its highest 
earthly interests, but also invest the surrender with an 
air of selfishness, in order to relieve others of the re¬ 
straint of gratitude. He looked with an assumed re¬ 
proach into Scotia's face, and then called to Bertha in 
his loud, cheery, dominant voice. And Bertha looked 
so pretty, and was so happy and affectionate, that 
Blair felt a sudden access of liking for her. She re¬ 
stored him to himself; to his own high opinion of 
Blair Rodney. 


86 


A SISl'ER TO ESAU. 


A gardener took away Blair’s horse, and very 
quickly Scotia left Blair and Bertha together. She 
hardly knew what excuse she made ; certainly neither 
Blair nor Bertha paid the slightest attention to her 
apology. For a moment they watched her tall figure 
passing through the gray light ; then she disappeared 
among the rose bushes, and the sense of their solitude 
was a relief. Blair was holding Bertha’s hands. Her 
pretty round face was dropped. Her small figure had 
a natural lean toward him. It was the easiest thing 
in life to draw it close in his embrace ; to lift the 
blushing happy face, and kiss his welcome from her 
unreluctant lips. 

The rest was still easier, and still more pleasant. 
Bertha confessed all that Blair wished her to say ; and 
Blair was impelled by the very fact of his unfortunate 
declaration to Scotia to make the strongest possible 
protestations of his devotion. 

In such delightful discourse time passed very 
rapidly. They forgot everything but their own hap- 
piness and their own interests ; and the Evening 
Exercise was quite over when they entered the house 
together. The Colonel had been unusually sorrowful 
while conducting it. Scotia’s heart ached to the 
mournful question which he asked with such a restless 
pathos, as he stood up before his household, with his 
long, thin hand laid reverently on the open Bible : 

Why art thou cast down. Oh my soul, and why art 
thou disquieted within me ?” 

The fact that he had passed by the regular portion, 
and chosen this psalm, was to Scotia a positive proof 
that her father was apprehensive and disturbed. She 
wondered if his soul was prescient of its approaching 
disappointment. She had a miserable fear as to the 


EITHER WILL DO. 


87 


wisdom and kindness of her own act. Her renuncia¬ 
tion assumed a selfish aspect. She wished, as she 
listened to the mournful tones of the man praying, 
that she had taken consideration and advice ; that she 
had not allowed Bertha’s selfish plaints and her 
own inclinations to force so final a decision from 
her. 

As the servants left the parlor she heard the lovers 
entering the hall. The Colonel and Mrs. Rodney 
heard them at the same moment. Mrs. Rodney, in a 
voice of genuine surprise said, “ That is certainly 
Blair.” She heard Bertha speaking also, and, in some 
mysterious way, she understood the position of the 
two. The knowledge made her suddenly nervous ; 
she felt unable to face the event she had wished and 
planned for, and with an inaudible excuse left the 
room. 

Scotia was by her father’s side. She had no time to 
escape ; she was compelled to watch the entrance of 
the couple, who came in so demonstratively happy. 
Blair, out of respect for the nearness of the Sabbath, 
laughing in as low a tone as was possible to him. 
Bertha clinging to his arm, and softly echoing all his 
expressions of satisfaction. 

Scotia glanced at the Colonel. His face was gray 
and angry. He sat rigidly upright, like a man ex¬ 
pecting a blow, and ready to receive it without winc¬ 
ing. 

“ I am glad to see you again. Colonel,” cried Blair, 
advancing. His manner was self-congratulatory and 
confident. It offended the Colonel in all his fine in¬ 
stincts. He simply bowed in response. 

“ Bertha and I have just come to a very happy un¬ 
derstanding ; and we thought-” 


88 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


“ Mr. Rodney—Blair—you forget that this is the 
preparation for the Sabbath. Your affairs, whatever 
they may be, must wait until Monday morning. Ber¬ 
tha, you missed the Exercise. Was your own way, 
child, so far from the way of duty, that you could not 
make them one ? ” 

“ Father, I-” 

“ Make your excuse to Him whose service you ne¬ 
glected. I hope you have a good one—one you will 
dare to offer. Scotia, give me my stick. I will go 
upstairs. Good-night, children ! Remember the Sab¬ 
bath, to keep it holy. Your own thoughts, hopes, and 
desires have no right in it.” 

He spoke with a slow decision that Scotia felt was a 
labor. She followed him into the hall, but he dis¬ 
missed her there with most unusual severity. “ Go 
back to your brother and sister,” he said, “ I will 
talk to you after the Sabbath.” He purposely called 
Blair her “brother ” ; he wished her to understand his 
sorrow and his suffering. But that was in a measure 
impossible. She could form no conception of his dis¬ 
appointment. She did not dream that his last earthly 
hope had been shattered. She could not see his utter 
collapse of spirit when he reached his room ; the piti¬ 
ful wringing of his aged hands ; the few last tears 
forced from his dim eyes by the failure of his one 
desire. “ Oh, the long, long sorrow of life ! ” he 
sighed. 

But whether we notice it or not, even the uncon¬ 
scious efforts of nature are toward consolation. Our 
very hearts throb upward ; our bosoms heave toward 
heaven. Without analyzing the sources of comfort, 
the patiently receptive find them. When Mrs. Rod¬ 
ney joined her husband, he had got the mastery 



EITHER WILL DO. 89 

of himself, though he looked exceedingly ill and 
weary. 

“ I suppose, Kinross, you understand about Blair 
and Bertha ? ” 

“ Yes. We will not talk of it to-night.'’ 

“You look ill, my dear?” » 

“ I have had a blow. It laid me on my face for 
half an hour.” 

“ But you are better ; you have risen again ? ” 

“ The Lord of wings gives power to soar when men 
cannot rise or stand.” 

“ Man proposes, and God disposes, Kinross, my 
dear.” 

“ The rede still rings, that all is vanity and vex¬ 
ation of spirit. Why should we escape ? The Sab¬ 
bath may give us strength to meet what we did not 
wish, and to give up what we did wish.” 

In fact, Blair and Bertha were the only happy 
people in Rodney House that night. Mrs. Rodney 
suffered from the same uncertainty as Scotia. She was 
not sure in her own mind that she had done altogether 
right. She could not make herself believe that a good 
end justified all means to reach it. 

Certainly the tone of the house was not flattering to 
the lovers, but Bertha and Blair were ignorant of the 
lack of sympathy. Blair felt himself already master of 
Rodney, and Bertha went very quickly to her sister’s 
room. In spite of her father’s regard for the Sabbath, 
she did not feel that it bound her for at least another 
hour. And she had things to say to Scotia which she 
could not wait to say until Monday morning. 

Scotia was compelled to hear them. If she refused, 
Bertha would attribute the refusal either to jealousy, 
disappointment, or want of sisterly love ; to any 


90 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


reason rather than to the right one. For Bertha had 
one of those commonplace natures which remorse¬ 
lessly lop off whatever outgrows its own level. 

“Dear Scotia,” she said effusively, “are you not 
glad for my happiness ? I never was so surprised. 
And only think, how foolish I was to doubt dear Blair. 
He says he has loved me from the first moment of our 
acquaintance. You remember, he met me first ? ” 

“ If you are happy, I am very glad in your happi¬ 
ness, Bertha,” 

“ I was such an ignorant little thing. Blair reminded 
me to-night of times without number when he has 
tried to make me understand how precious I was to 
him. But I was too timid to hope for such joy as 
Blair’s love. He says Father wanted him to marry 
you.” 

“ Blair ought not to say such things. I told you 
I did not love Blair. He never could have suited me 
—Never ! Never ! ” 

“ Well, that is not dear Blair’s fault. He loves you 
as a sister, Scotia.” 

“ He is very kind. I will try and love him—as a 
brother.” 

“ Of course, as you are the eldest, it would have 
been better for Blair to have married you. Father 
wanted it so ; but Blair says he would rather lose 
Rodney than lose his little Bertha. I suppose he may 
have to lose Rodney. He said he could see that 
Father was very cross. Blair is particularly shrewd 
and penetrating.” 

“ Then he must understand that he will not lose 
Rodney. He ought to feel sure that my Father’s word 
stands under all circumstances. Why should he and 
you pretend to think differently.” 


EITHER WILL DO. 


91 


“You might say a few words in our favor, Scotia. 
You know, Father always listens to you.” 

“ When I gave up Blair and Rodney to you, Bertha, 
I gave up both without reservation. Do me justice, 
and believe that.” 

“ Do not be cross, Scotia. I think it was kind of 
you to give up Rodney. I really feel that, and so 
does Blair. We are going to ask Father to divide it.” 

“ I pray you do nothing of the kind. Can you not 
see that Father accepts Blair only because through 
him the estate can be kept intact in the Rodney 
name.” 

“ Blair says that he is the next heir, and that his 
choice of me is therefore entirely free.” 

“ Blair lies ! excuse me, Bertha. You know, and 
Blair knows, that Father can leave Rodney exactly as 
he wishes.” 

“ Except for the moral obligation. No Rodney has 
ever thought the moral obligation less binding than a 
legal one.” 

“Did you come here to discuss money matters, and 
it is so near the Sabbath, Bertha ? ” 

“And though you did, in imaginatibn, give Blair 
up to me : in reality, dear Scotia, Blair has always 
been mine. He says so. It was only my foolish, 
timid heart that could not believe in its own happiness. 
Blair says, ‘ I do not know how charming, how very 
charming I am.' I wish I could feel as you do, about 
my own worth. Now, I shall have the pleasure of re¬ 
fusing Sir Thomas Carr, with his Indian Secretary¬ 
ship ! ” 

“ Sir Thomas is a fine fellow. Any woman might 
be proud of his homage.” 

“ I make you welcome to it. Now, as you made 


92 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


me welcome to Blair, we are quits. When I told Blair 
that Sir Thomas Carr’s offer was still pending, and 
that I was to answer him next Tuesday, you cannot 
think what a state Blair was in ! He wanted me to 
write a refusal to-night. He said he could not sleep 
unless I did. He went for paper, and pen, and ink, 
and just gave me no rest till the note was written.” 

And you wrote it ? To-night ? ” 

“ I did, to please Blair. Blair said it was a very 
lady-like letter.” 

You let Blair read Sir Thomas Carr’s letter ? 
Bertha ? ” 

“Blair would have been jealous if I had not let 
him read it. Poor Sir Thomas ! He will be broken¬ 
hearted.” 

“I do not think he is to be pitied. You are not 
the wife for him. He will find that out when he 
meets the right person.” 

“ I am going to sleep now. Dear me ! it is striking 
twelve. It is the Sabbath. Good-night, dear Sco¬ 
tia ? ” and she went away with the solemn little air 
she usually wore on the Sabbath day. But ere she 
reached the door, she turned and said in a deliberate, 
speculative manner: “ I wonder what the minister will 
say ? Angus Bruce is very fond of me, lately.” 

“ Angus Bruce ? ” 

“ Indeed, yes ! A woman knows when a man is in 
love with her; and I know Angus Bruce has thought 
a great deal about me. It was presumptuous, of 
course, but I dare say the poor fellow could not help it.” 

“ Why presumptuous ? ” 

“ A man with j[,2oo a year ? ” 

“ He is a clergyman. His office makes him the 
social equal of any lady in Scotland.” 


EITHER WILL DO, 


93 


“ That is only tradition. Scotia, have you forgotten 
that we are breaking the Sabbath, talking of our own 
affairs ? ” 

“ Is talking of them worse than thinking of them ? 

“ If you begin to ask questions, I am going. Ques¬ 
tions are so disagreeable. Good-night again ! I hope 
it will be fine to-morrow. I should like to wear white 
on my betrothal Sabbath.” 

Then the door finally closed, and Scotia went to it 
and softly drew the bolt. At last she was alone, and 
she turned to her heart almost angrily, and began to 
talk with it. “ I see this,” she said, “ that they who 
try to do a kind, unselfish action, sow the sea with 
sand, and must reap their crop of foam, and harvest 
it. What have I received ? what shall I receive for 
my absolute relinquishment of Rodney? For my 
delicate refusal of Blair’s love ? Blair has already 
forgotten, if he ever understood it. Bertha is bent 
on letting me feel that my sisterly kindness was un¬ 
necessary. She is humiliated by its remembrance. 
She will never think of it as a proof of my affection, 
and be glad in it, as such. I .have grieved Father 
almost to death. And what is my recompense ? ” 
Then a voice, low, but penetrating every corner of 
her consciousness, asked, “What were your motives ? ” 
She took up the question with the impatience of an 
angry woman. “ I suppose my motives were not 
purely angelic. But if I pulled a rose up by the 
roots, I should find its roots in the dirt. It is not 
necessary to pursue a motive to its roots, any more 
than it is necessary to look for the root of a rose. 
And it is the same with every flower, even those sweet 
and fair as heaven ; no, it is not. There are the orchids 
and the mistletoe. But they are thieves and parasites. 


94 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Suppose I go to the roots of my motives ! Suppose 
then, I did not want to marry Blair, and that it was 
not very much of a trial to give up Rodney, if I had 
to take Blair with Rodney. And suppose that I did 
want to be free to marry Angus Bruce—if he should 
ask me to marry him. There is nothing wrong in my 
secret motives ; and as for my apparent ones, they 
were surely beyond reproach ; and Bertha ought not 
to be above acknowledging them. I do wonder if 
any woman—or man either—ever goes to the bottom 
of their actions! May not an habitually true life 
have its Apocrypha ? ” 

Then she remembered Bertha’s assertion that the 
minister loved her. It did not trouble Scotia in that 
light. She did not believe Bertha. She knew that 
Bertha did not believe herself. But the assertion 
showed her that Bertha had seen or suspected the 
love between Angus and herself; and that she was 
bent on making trouble about the matter. And the 
possibilities in this direction were manifold. “ But I 
will not anticipate evil,” she said ; “ when a great 
exigency comes, it brings with it the ability to 
conquer.” 

She rose with the thought and drew out the large 
amber pins that confined her hair, and suffered her 
robe to fall from her. The late moonlight flooded 
the room ; her white throat and arms showed in it with 
a supernatural beauty ; and anon it fell all over her 
white-robed figure, kneeling with clasped hands and 
bowed head, uttering softly words of holy hope and 
everlasting trust ; words that went singing through 
her soul, irradiated her face, and led her to the open 
window in a happy tremor of exaltation. 

The love which gives all, can forgive all ; and 


EITHER WILL DO. 


95 


Scetia was no longer angry with Bertha. “ Some 
angel has been near me,” she whispered. Are we 
not encompassed by them? Loving, helpful soul- 
relatives, who are as kind, and kinder, than those of 
flesh and blood ! ” 

She stood with the open casement in her hand. 
The clock struck two. There was a nightingale sing¬ 
ing afar off, and she could see the ocean lying still 
beneath the moon, and gently murmuring 

Lovely, lovely, lovely, Lady of the Heavens ! 

Her heart swelled to its tide, and she went to sleep 
bespeaking by her very passivity those happy dreams 
that double life, and are the heart’s bright shadow on 
life’s flood. 

The morning was according to Bertha’s desire, fair 
and sunny, and she appeared in a dress of snowy lawn. 
Her girdle was white and she carried white lilies in 
her hand. Blair objected to the lilies. He thought 
them too secular for a church service, and Bertha 
sweetly laid them down to wither in the hot August 
sun. 

They were a little late ; Bertha intended the party 
to be so, and Bertha and the clocks always came to 
an understanding. The minister was in the pulpit 
when they entered. Every one else was in their pews. 
The Colonel’s face flushed with annoyance. Bertha, 
leaning on Blair’s arm, was as cool and calm as if she 
was in her own room. Yet in some mysterious way 
she informed every one of her betrothment. Every 
one but Angus. He knew when the Rodneys entered, 
but he did not permit himself to consider either man 
or woman when he stood up in the House of God. 

Yet unconsciously the thought of Scotia may have 


96 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


been in his heart when he chose his sermon—the 
thought of her usurpation of holy office ; the angry 
thought that tortured him through all his loving 
thoughts. At first his face was dreamy and mystical, 
and he felt his way among the great facts of time and 
eternity, only as a cold, logical word-sifter ; but very 
soon his eyes caught the light of heaven, and his lips 
its fire, and the granite faces of the shepherds and the 
fishers became tremulous with emotion ; and men who 
never moved a hair’s breadth, grew restless, and 
longed to rise from their seats. 

“ I said to my heart but yesterday, I will go no 
more into the pulpit. I will not make mention of Him, 
nor speak any more in His name ! ”—and the face of 
the preacher was bent and sad, and Scotia knew that 
in some way she had influenced this decision ; but”— 
and he lifted his head, and looked beyond church and 
congregation—“ but, this morning, I felt even as the 
prophet did. His Word was in my heart a burning 
fire, shut up in my bones, and I was weary with for¬ 
bearing, and I could not stay,” and then like a tide of 
lava his words made a road for themselves to all 
hearts. 

Scotia was humbled to the dust. This was the 
commissioned minister of the Lord ; and she had 
dared to usurp his place, and deny his words, and dis¬ 
honor him in his office ! She went home very quiet, 
but not unhappy. In spite of all her faults, she be¬ 
lieved that Angus loved her. And for the love of 
such a man, what earthly honor, what gold and land, 
would she not surrender! And all the after-day was 
set to the bugle call of that sermon, and to the music 
of the promises which rang through it. 

“ It has been a good Sabbath,” said the Colonel, as 


EITHER WILL DO. 


97 


the family gathered around him in the evening, and 
Sabbath is the father of the week. For it is the first 
day, and a great deal depends upon the beginnings of 
things.” 

All is well that ends well, sir.” 

That is only partly true, Blair. If an event, or a 
work does not begin well, and go on well, it is not all 
well, whatever the ending may be.” 

“ Was it not ‘ all well ’ when the penitent thief 
ended well, sir ? ” 

“ It is true that he ended well, Blair ; but did that 
pay back what he had stolen, or make reparation for 
all the misery he had caused ? How much better it 
had been if he had begun well, also. To suppose dif¬ 
ferently is an Arminian fallacy. Now we will thank 
God for a happy Sabbath. Whatever the week brings 
it has given us the strength to meet it.” 

And then Blair and Bertha glanced at each other. 
They had already the egotism of lovers. They could 
imagine no joy or no sorrow in Rodney House, which 
would not have its root in their love and their in« 
terests. 


VII. 


ESAU’s SISTER.. 


“ You Scotsmen are a pertinacious brood, 

Fitly you wear the thistle in your cap 
As in your grim theology .... God knows you’ll find 
Well-combed and smooth-licked gentlemen enough 
To sneer at massive Calvin’s close-wedged creed. 

The burden of our life is hard to bear, 

But we must bear it, if it blame or bless ; 

Joy is so like to grief, hope to despair, 

That life’s best sweet, has taint of bitterness.” 

ERY early on Monday morning the Colonel was 



^ ready to receive Blair Rodney. The young man 
was flattered by this promptitude. “ You see how 
anxious your father is to have our affairs settled,” he 
said to Bertha, and neither of them suspected that 
restlessness of a brave soul which is ‘‘straightened,” 
until it has lifted, and drank to the dregs, any bitter 
cup appointed it. 

And whatever may have been the Colonel’s disap¬ 
pointment, he was by this time able to control all 
evidences of it. He met Blair with his usual courtesy, 
and discussed the proposed marriage with a calm and 
honorable recognition of all Blair’s rights. 

“ I have only one charge to make,” he said ; “ it is 
that you hold Rodney in trust for the next male heir, 
whether it be your own son or not. If one of my 


ESAU*S SISTER. 


99 


boys had lived, he would have stood to-day as you 
stand, future lord of Rodney, but as I have no son, I 
pass over my daughters in your favor, and I expect 
you to do likewise, if Destiny demands this sacrifice 
from you. The house and lands of Rodney must go 
in the name of Rodney.” 

“ I promise you, sir.” 

Then Bertha was called, and the Colonel kissed her 
tenderly and gave her to Blair. I have deter¬ 
mined,” he said, “ to redecorate and refurnish Inner- 
grey, the dower house. It is large enough for such 
an establishment as you require, and when you leave 
it, the place that knows me now will know me no 
more, and you will take my place.” 

“ May God long preserve you, sir.” 

Blair spoke with apparent sincerity, and Bertha hid 
her face in her father’s breast. The short silence 
was broken by Colonel Rodney. 

“And as the Innergrey House will then be my 
wife’s home, I think you should decide together as to 
the colors and style of the painting and furniture.” 

“ As to the date of our marriage, sir ? Have you 
anything to propose ? ” 

“ Innergrey will not be ready until the spring. 
Suppose, Blair, we leave the exact day for a future 
settlement ? And in the mean time, Bertha will pre¬ 
pare her wedding garments.” Then both father and 
lover looked tenderly at the young girl, who, with 
assured love, had put on a marked increase of beauty. 
Her fresh muslin gown, her neatness, and sweetness, 
and pretty air* of modesty and dependence, were really 
very charming. Blair was quite inclined to believe 
that he had been an extremely fortunate young man. 

The interview was not prolonged. No one felt it to 


lOO 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


be other than a piece of business, well and pleasantly 
over. In this respect, fathers are often very hardly 
treated. Mothers are taken into confidence, and con¬ 
sulted about all the charming details of the marriage. 
They assist in the arrangement of the new home. 
They buy the trousseau^ and pass many happy days in 
spending the check which it is the father’s sole privi¬ 
lege to write. Mrs. Rodney was now quite excited 
over Bertha's engagement. To look after the refur¬ 
nishing of Innergrey was an employment thoroughly 
suiting her. And in Bertha’s wardrobe she anticipated 
months of pleasurable discussion and shopping. In¬ 
terviews with modistes^ consultations about the cere¬ 
mony, about people to be asked, and people to be 
passed over ; these and many other affairs in connec¬ 
tion with the great event pressed with a sudden but 
delightful hurry upon her. 

Innergrey was a large granite house on the southern 
confines of Rodney. It had been the dower house 
for seven generations ; and Bertha was delighted with 
the idea of making it a bride house. In an hour 
Mrs. Rodney, Blair, and Bertha were on their way 
there. They took with them a comfortable lunch ; 
for Blair was bent on making all the measurements 
and calculations that would be necessary. 

“ We will go through the place, room by room, and 
make a note of what is to be done ; and of what is to 
be got, for each room.” And then he unfolded the 
paper he had brought, and looked at the pencils, and 
it was evident that both he and the two ladies felt 
they had entered upon a very important and a very 
interesting piece of work. 

The Colonel, standing at his window, watched them 
drive away. He noticed particularly Blair’s bluff 


ESAU'S SISTER. 


lOI 


comeliness and bounceable manners—his hearty com¬ 
mendation of the capacious lunch basket—his joyous 
voice, his noisy excitement. And he acknowledged 
the physical beauty of the young bridegroom, saying 
to himself at the same moment, that it was, after all, 
only the husk of being. Yet, in a more delicate way, 
Bertha was but his counterpart. She was radiating 
smiles, and all alive with her new hopes and joys ; but 
these hopes and joys touched nothing but bodily 
senses and material ambitions. Even Mrs. Rodney’s 
happiness was set .to the same key—a delightfully 
natural one, easily reached by the most commonplace 
of aims and considerations. 

“ Perhaps they will look up to my window ! ” and 
as the thought crossed his mind, the loving father 
straightened himself, and smiled in anticipation of the 
smiles he w'ould be asked for. But in their excited 
condition all forgot the old man. Mrs. Rodney was 
giving directions about the lunch basket. Blair, bend¬ 
ing forward, was whispering to Bertha ; whispering 
words which received only a blush, and a smile, and 
one little push, for answer. 

The Colonel understood his exclusion from the 
merry party. It was natural, but it made him sigh. 
After all, it is a sharp and melancholy wine which life 
distills, and the lonely father drank of it that day. 
His thoughts quickly turned to Scotia. “ Why had 
she been left at home ? ” His face flushed with anger 
at the supposition of any slight offered Scotia. Then 
he remembered how crossly he had spoken to her on 
the previous evening, and he rang the bell impetu¬ 
ously, and asked for Miss Rodney. 

“ Very early this morning she went out to walk, 
sir.” 


102 


A SIST£J? TO ESAU. 


“ Which way did she go ? ” 

“ By Rodney Hill, toward the pine wood.” 

He had a mind to go and meet her, but he soon re¬ 
flected that the sun was already high, and that he was 
unable to bear the heat. Yet he received unconsciously 
a sense of rest, as his imagination found her out. He 
saw the pines standing in that deep intensity of green 
which absorbs the sunlight. He felt the profound 
peace, the equable light, the fresh aromatic air, the 
sense of unchangeableness that is the atmosphere of 
these trees. He knew the group under which she 
would be lying at rest. He could see the brown, clean 
earth covered with the dry, needle-like leaves—the 
blackberry brier straying into the open spaces; the 
darkness that was not darkness, but a beautiful gloom 
surrounded by light. 

He thought of her as certainly quite alone, for there 
was no road through the wood : only a little bridle 
path which was sometimes used by Tam, the herd, 
when he was in a hurry to reach the village. This 
morning Tam had gone very early for the minister, 
and in order to save time had taken him through the 
wood. There was a farm-house beyond it, which 
could be reached half an hour earlier by this path; 
and as Margaret Stirling lay there dying, Tam had 
taken the minister by the short path. 

He returned the same way. It was a peaceful way 
out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and he trod 
it very slowly and thoughtfully, and yet with a sense 
of solemn triumph. Before Scotia was aware of his 
presence in the wood, he saw her under the trees. 
She had cast her book away, and with her arms under 
her head was gazing upward into the thick branches. 
As he drew nearer she heard the rustle of foot- 


ESAU'S SISTER. 103 

steps, and stood up. “It is only Tam-” she 
thought. 

When she saw that it was Angus Bruce, her first 
feeling was one of intrusion. She met him a little 
coldly. It was not pleasant to find that this hitherto 
inviolable sanctuary had been broken into. Bruce 
understood the feeling, and he hastened to apologize 
for his presence there : 

“ Tam came for me in a hurry. You know that 
Margaret Stirling has been long sick. She is dead. 
This path shortened my walk considerably. I hope I 
have not used it to your annoyance.” 

“ No. I was just thinking of going home. We will 
walk together, if you like. So Margaret is at rest ? 
I am sure her end was peace.” 

“ It was the grandest outgoing. I have been at 
the gate of heaven. Do you know anything of her 
history ? ” 

“ I do not. Father once said she had had great 
sorrows, and great consolations. I did not ask him 
the particulars.” 

“ I can tell you in a few words. The Stirlings have 
owned their farm for two hundred years. They 
thought a great deal of their little house and few 
acres, and they have been alwa3^s pious, prudent men. 
Margaret’s eldest boy. Will, however, became a drunk¬ 
ard, a gambler, a—a ” 

“ A what we call a ‘ ne’er-do-wee,’ I suppose ? ” 

“Just so. And finally, to save him from prison, the 
father had to mortgage the farm beyond all his hopes 
of redemption. The mother toiled and hoped on ; 
the father died of the disgrace and sorrow, leaving 
Margaret with three little girls and her worthless lad. 
He was brought to his senses by his father’s death. 



104 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


He gave up drink absolutely. He returned home and 
worked hard. He became a drover, and made money. 
This morning I met him at his mother’s death-bed—a 
grizzled, middle-aged man, stern and grave, but with 
a light upon his face earth never gave. We broke 
bread and drank the holy cup in the very peace of 
heaven ; and then, just as Margaret was going. Will 
cried out: ‘ Oh, Mither ! Mither ! Ye’ll see Fethyer 
soon. Tell him the farm is a’ our ain again. An' it's 
a right wi' me / ’ With that blessed message, Mar¬ 
garet went away, smiling.” 

They had stood still while the minister was telling 
the humble tragedy and its triumphant finale ; a natu¬ 
ral instinct staying their feet, and making both solemn 
and reverent. Scotia’s eyes were shining with sym¬ 
pathy. Bruce’s pale face was full of vision and adora¬ 
tion. They walked through the green gloom, apart, 
speaking only in monosyllables ; breathing that air of 
divine happiness which is only reached when love is 
touched by the sorrow of earth and the joy of heaven. 
On gaining the open ground conversation became 
easier, and Bruce said : 

“ How grand is our faith ! What men and women ! 
what fathers and mothers it makes ! austerely brought- 
up generations, dwelling soberly in their sheltered 
homes, reading their Bibles, living by faith, subject to 
duty, courageous, calm, reflective. Will Stirling’s 
father has been dead twenty years, but he is still 
moved by the hope of his forgiveness and approval. 
Great is the faith of John Calvin ! and it nurtures great 
men and great women.” 

“Yet something is to be allowed for race and 
climate, Mr. Bruce.” 

“True. Scottish hearts are the native soil of Cal- 


£ SALT’S SISTER. 


105 

vinism, and though many revile our misty, rainy land, 
I for one 

Thank God, who isled us here ; and roughly set 
His Scotchmen in blown seas and stormy showers ; 

and as enthusiasm is contagions, Scotia lifted her 
head higher, and stepped more proudly to Bruce’s 
patriotic thanksgiving. But the disputatious spirit of 
her race was in her, and she said : 

“ Our faith ought not to rest on any creed, Calvin’s, 
or Luther’s, or Arminius. The evidence afforded by 
the testimony of our own hearts is greater.” 

“ Not so ! ” he answered positively. “ Not so. A 
religion sought only in the heart of each man will be 
a religion of his own framing, and will vary with each 
individual character. Creeds are as necessary to 
religion as laws are to government.” 

“ However, Mr. Bruce, Christ’s touchstone to the 
religious life of each soul is neither doctrine nor faith. 
It is conduct. I was an hungered and ye gave me 
meat. I was thirsty and in prison, and ye visited me! 
This is religion, as I understand. Of what use was 
Will Stirling’s faith in Calvinism until he stopped 
drinking and went to work, and redeemed his evil 
days by good deeds ?” 

“ Until his faith brought forth works, it was like an 
instrument closed and silent; but it was good to have 
the instrument there, when God willed him to open 
and use it. I wish, Miss Rodney, you would remem¬ 
ber that false opinions may be really worse than false 
morals. The latter meet their punishment very 
quickly, but false opinions may do a great deal of 
harm, before they are stayed ; they are, then, widely 
the worst.” 


io6 A SISTER TO ESAU, 

Scotia was silenced by this assertion, and by the 
positive tone in which it was uttered. And nothing 
was to be gained by opposing a man so sure in his own 
mind as Angus Bruce. They were at the manse gate 
also, and it was near the minister’s dinner hour. She 
reminded him of the fact, and before he could answer, 
old Adam lifted himself from the ground, and sup¬ 
plemented it. 

“ I shall walk with you to Rodney,” he said, heed¬ 
less of both ; and they went onward, a little con¬ 
sciously. 

Scotia knew that Adam was leaning on his spade 
watching them, and speculating about their affairs ; 
and ere she was aware, her annoyance voiced itself in 
the assertion, that, “ Adam was a meddling old man. 
And I don’t believe in his deafness or blindness very 
much, Mr. Bruce,” she added. “ I think he assumes 
both in order to exasperate his wife. If he were deaf 
he could not have heard our approach ; and if his 
sight was bad, as he affirms, he could not so readily 
have distinguished us.” 

“If he assumes these failings to exasperate Grizel, 
she turns them to her own advantage. I asked her yes¬ 
terday if Adam did not miss his Bible reading very 
much, and she answered, ‘ He disna feel that, sir. I 
read the Bible to him every day, an’ mony’s the bit I 
put in for his guid.’ Grizel is quite capable of making 
a commentary on any part of the book she reads, if she 
thinks Adam needs it.” 

“But if Adam does not hear Grizel’s additions ‘ put 
in for his good ’ ? ” 

“ Grizel holds your opinion, that Adam,’s deafness 
has some method in it. Very likely the opinion is 
correct, for at the kirk meeting last week, when 1 was 


ESAU'S SISTER. 


107 


explaining some matter to the deacons, I asked, * Are 
you hearing, Adam ? ’ and he promptly answered— 
‘ Oh, ay, Tm hearing, sir—but to vera little purpose.’ ” 
Scotia laughed heartily, and all nature seemed to 
laugh with her. The sun shone brightly overhead, 
and on either hand the creamy, wavy barley, and the 
scarlet, flashing poppies, salaamed their heads to the 
passing lovers. 'J'hey talked as they went through 
the park of a score of charming things—of the fair, 
brave trees standing kinglike, of the green plumes of 
the fern, of the moss, and the growing darnel, and 
the little daisies, and the thrush and the wren lilting 
together. Just then, life was sweet as perfume, and 
pure as the dawn or the dew. 

At the garden-gate they stopped suddenly. “ I will 
go no farther,” said Bruce. His face was so hand¬ 
some and cheerful that Scotia smiled frankly into it. 
Then she found courage to say what she had been 
longing to say, during all their interview : 

“ My cousin Blair is going to marry Bertha.” 

“ Bertha ! ” 

“ Yes. Does the news make you astonished ? ” 

“ It makes me unspeakably happy ! Nay, but I must 

speak-” and he took both her hands, and gazed 

with a passionate admiration at the girl. Never— 
even in her lustrous white satin robe—had she looked 
so enchanting to him as she did at that moment. The 
sunshine fell all over her and her plain winsey dress 
and little black silk scarf and gypsy bonnet. But 
Scotia's beauty could bear the sunshine, and she 
always looked her best in the wood.s, or among the 
shrubs or flowers. “ Nay, but I must speak,” 
Bruce cried, and he took her hands, and for one 
breathless moment, the air around trembled with love 



io8 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


and hope, and they were conscious of a holy flame 
between them—the flame of meeting souls. It made 
Bruce dumb ; his emotion was so great he could find 
no words for its expression ; Scotia first broke the 
silence, though her voice was almost a whisper : 

“ If—if there is any reason why speech is prema¬ 
ture, then I will not have it. You must not blend the 
thought of me with any after-thought of remorse, or 
even regret. You would not wish to do so V* 

“ No.” 

“ Then—it must be good-morning—now.” 

He bowed, and she went onward, feeling his soul 
follow hers with strong asseverations of love, and 
lowly thanks for her noble restraint. It was a sweeter 
revelation than any other could have been for when 
love has that rare quality of ‘ seeking not its own,’ it 
has the quality of heaven, and tastes the bliss that has. 
no after-pain of regret or sor rowr> 

As she drew near to the house a kind of fear at¬ 
tacked her. She dreaded to meet Blair and Bertha, 
and it seemed almost a sacrilege to carry the love in 
her heart into an atmosphere full of veiled antagonisms 
and curious questionings. It was then a great relief 
to meet Corporal Scott in the hall with her Father’s 
lunch tray ; and to hear that she was likely to have 
some hours in which to attune herself to the proper 
domestic key. 

“ I shall take lunch with Father, Corporal,” she 
said joyfully ; and with a light step she sped before 
him to her father’s sitting-room. He was still in his 
dressing gown, lying upon a couch by the open win¬ 
dow. The interview with Blair had been very trying ; 
he had felt unable to rally speedily from it. 

But Scotia brought in a new atmosphere ; the feel- 


ESAU'S S/S TEE. 109 

ing of the woods came in with her—the scent of the 
woodruff—the glow of the sunshine—the very aroma 
of happiness, of youth, and freedom. 

“ Oh, my dear daughter, how glad I am to see you ! 
Corporal, another plate and glass. I am to have com¬ 
pany to-day. And where have you been, Scotia ? 
To the Stone Pillar? ” 

‘‘No. I went to the pines. One grows strong in 
their company. And I met Angus Bruce there.” 

“ But how ? And why ? I thought no one—except 
it might be Tam—ever trespassed in that plantation. 
I do not like it.” 

“ There was a sufficient reason. Father.” Then as 
they ate their lunch, Scotia told again the solemnly 
joyful story of Margaret Stirling’s death; and much 
conversation grew out of it. At the close of the sub¬ 
ject, the Colonel said : 

“ I have dealings with Will Stirling frequently, and 
he is an honest, worthy fellow. His father I never 
knew, but I have often noticed his gravestone. Look 
at it next Sabbath, when you go to church. It is on 
the right hand of the path.” 

“ I have seen the stone. There is nothing on it, 
but his name, and below the name three words—‘ a 
good man* ” 

“ What more could be said ? ” 

Then they were silent, for the Corporal was remov¬ 
ing the lunch service, and Scotia saw that her father 
had become suddenly lost in sorrowful thought. As 
soon as they were alone she brought him his cigars, 
and drew her chair near, but he pushed the cigars 
away, and said : 

“ Not yet, Scotia. I want to feel. I want to tell 
you something, my dear. It is so long since I gave 
my grief voice. I am sick for a little comfort.” 


no 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Dear Father, I am here ! Whatever troubles you, 
troubles me.” 

“ Will Stirling’s father was a happy man. He died 
for his son. His death gave his boy everlasting life. 
But for my boy ! for my poor boy, I could do nothing 
but weep. Oh, Archibald ! My son Archibald ! Oh 
my son ! My son !” And he bowed his head upon 
his hands, and wept with a slow agonizing passion 
that was terrible. 

Scotia let his grief have its course, then she drew 
closer to him, and kissed away his heavy tears, and 
said : * 

“Archibald was my eldest brother. Father ?” 

“ Yes. Do you remember him ? ” 

“ Hardly. Sometimes there is a vision of a tall boy 
riding swiftly by your side ; but all is vague and un- 
certain.” 

“You were only four years old when he was killed- 
It is sixteen years ago.” 

“ Killed ?” 

“ Perished between fire and sword, the brave, brave 
lad ! If he had lived, Scotia, I had been spared the 
suffering of this morning.” 

“ I know.” 

“ To see Blair in his place ! It is hard! It is cruel, 
hard ! But God’s will be done. It is always best.” 

“Can you tell me about Archibald ?” 

“ I want to tell you. My heart is aching to speak 
of him ; but your mother cannot bear it, and Corporal 
Scott has said all possible over and over. No one 
else knew the lad. After his death I sent you and 
your mother and Bertha to Scotland.” 

“ How old was he, Father ?” 

“More than twelve years. His younger brothers 


ESAU’S SISTER. 


Ill 


were dead ; he was the only boy I had. I thought he 
had survived danger, and become able to bear the 
climate, and as he desired most of all to be a soldier^ 
I kept him by my side.. We had been at a hill station 
all the hot season, and at its close I was ordered to 
come back to garrison. I had two hundred men in 
camp with me, and I took one hundred and fifty of 
them and your mother and sisters back first, leaving 
fifty men to guard the tents and wagons and stores. 
Archibald begged to stay with them, and I never 
thought of danger.” 

“ But why did you not all go together ? ” 

“ Because the wagons would have entailed slow 
travel, and as the weather was still uncomfortably 
warm, I took your mother and sister and yourself by 
a forced gallop during one night the whole march. 
The next night with fifty men I set out for the hill 
camp. We reached the defile in the mountains at 
dawn, and were met by a strong party of the enemy, 
who gave us some hard fighting. But they were 
between me and my boy, and you may know how I 
fought. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, they 
fled. My heart was hot and sick with terror. On 
reaching a certain elevation, I knew I ought to see 
the tents. They were not there. But a thin smoke 
curled and floated above the spot, and I rode as if I 
was a spirit. The wagons were gone and the stores. 
The men had been massacred, and then burned with 
the tents and such things as they could not carry off. 
I took out of the fire a piece of Archibald’s blue cap, 
the gold braid and buttons still clinging to it. It was 
the only thing in the burnt debris that could be 
identified.” 

“ Were all the men slain ?” 


II2 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“ All—but the Corporal. Scott had charge of the 
wagons, and they compelled him to go with them. 
On the third night he escaped, and found his way 
back to garrison.” 

“ Did he tell you anything of Archibald ?” 

He saw him struck down by a sword—and then 
the fire. I pray God the sword killed him !” - 

And no more ?” 

“ No more. 1 went after the thieves. I rode day 
and night until I fell ill with fever. I hired fakirs to go 
among the murdering gangs in search of any informa¬ 
tion. I paid them to travel wherever such men went. 
I spent years in a hopeless search, which from the 
first I knew was hopeless. It is sixteen years ago, 
Scotia, but I never go to sleep without seeing the lad 
as I last saw him, waving his cap to me as he rode 
back to his death.” 

Oh, my dear father !” 

“ He was so lovely and so loving ! So cheery and 
so brave ! Any man in the regiment would have died 
to save his life. They did gather round him in the 
fight, but the thieves were too many. Oh, my son 
Archibald ! Oh, my son ! My son ! ” 

And Scotia kneeled by his side and kissed away the 
late tears of one who should have outlived tears ; 
and presently he rose and took from his desk a pic¬ 
ture of the slain youth, and made her notice that he 
had the same red-brown hair and bright blue eyes as 
her own. And the rain of sorrow did him good. As 
he talked to Scotia he grew calm and resigned, and 
then with a sad significance, said : 

“ I have told you this piteous story, Scotia, that 
you may understand how terrible has been my dis¬ 
appointment in the matter of Blair and Bertha. If it 


ESAU'S SISTER. 113 

had been Blair and you, I could have borne better to 
see Blair in Archibald’s place. 

“ But why, dear father ?” 

“You are the elder. You resemble Archibald very 
much. You have been my companion and my friend. 
Our sympathies are the same. In short, my dear, 
you are a Rodney; and your sister resembles only 
your mother’s family—very fine people, Scotia, but— 
but, not Rodneys.” 

“ Bertha and Blair are conservative, they will 
do very well to Rodney—they are fond of each 
other.” 

“ Then, Scotia, what I have seen has deceived me. 
There has been some little secret spring touched, 
which has altered all that seemed certain ; you have 
been moved by a few tears—a little coaxing—a trifle— 
I know not what, and you have sold your inheritance 
for some such mess of pottage. You are a sister to 
Esau.” 

“ Even if this were true, dear father, was it 
not better to sell my inheritance than to sell my¬ 
self?” 

“ Was it as bad as that, Scotia ?” 

“Yes, sir. I never could have made my will or my 
heart consent ; they would have been life-long cap¬ 
tives to my interest. I must have violated my honor 
and my truth constantly. And for Blair? Truly, in 
such case I should have sold Scotia Rodney for a 
mess of pottage ! ” 

“ For all that, you are one of Esau’s sisters.” 

“ They are few and honorable. I am proud of the 
distinction. What a noble brother I have ! What a 
generous, unselfish, benignant, affectionate soul Esau 
was ! When you put him beside ‘ that smooth man,’ 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


I 14 

his brother Jacob, he is so far above him that you can¬ 
not measure the distance. As for Jacob, I thank God 
his family virtues are not ours ! ” 

“But Esau despised his inheritance.” 

“ No, he only valued his life above his father's land 
and sheep. Esau was a busy, brave man, and while 
Jacob was sitting in the tent making plots, counting 
increase, or sodding pottage, Esau was out in the 
woods or fields with his bow and spear. His living 
was in his own hand—perhaps he liked better to 
make it than to inherit it.” 

“ He desired his brother’s life. Jacob had to fly 
from him.” 

“ But not because of a little land, or a few head of 
cattle. Oh, no ! He was indifferent about the inheri¬ 
tance, but when Jacob stole his blessing, then this 
mighty hunter lifted up his voice and wept. Put 
yourself in his times and in his place, father, and 
would you not also have said ‘When my father is dead, 
1 will kill my brother Jacob ! not because he stole my 
inheritance, but because he stole my blessing.’ And 
he was no passionate bully, he could control his anger 
for his father’s sake. Not while Isaac lived would he 
repay Jacob.” 

“ Yet Jacob had to fly from his home.” 

“ Men who steal and do wrong, usually have to run 
away. Esau stayed with his father and mother, he 
married a wife to please them, and was evidently 
happy and prosperous. As for Jacob, when I remem¬ 
ber how disgracefully he treated that kind honorable 
Syrian gentleman, Laban, I have a measureless con¬ 
tempt for Jacob. How precisely like him it was to 
steal away in the night, and to carry off Laban’s chil¬ 
dren and grandchildren without giving him an oppor- 


ESAU’S SISTER. 115 

tunity to kiss them. The loss of his own son Joseph 
was a most righteous retribution.” 

“ Yet God loved Jacob.” 

“ That shows us that God can bear with a man that 
no respectable human being could endure to live with. 
And if God loved and blessed Isaac for his servant 
Abraham’s sake—Abraham, whom he called ^ my 
friend '—doubtless he favored Jacob for the same rea¬ 
son. And with all his cunning Jacob himself testifies 
that his days were ‘ few and evil.’ He died a depend¬ 
ent in Egypt, living on the bounty of a pagan king. 
But Esau dwelt among his own people, in Seir and in 
Edom.” 

“ Well, my dear, you have defended your brother 
Esau. Now tell me about Blair. Will he make Ber¬ 
tha happy ? Does he love her ? ” 

“Blair will always love, the woman who admires 
him more than he could love any woman whom he ad¬ 
mired. For this reason he loves Bertha. I think they 
will be very happy.” . 

“ They have gone to Innergrey, and it is going to 
rain. This is a most unreliable climate.” 

“ It is always changing, what more would you have ? 
I wonder if the government could stand a three months’ 
sunshine ? For the weather is the safety valve of our 
grumblers—and most men are grumblers.”’ 

“ There are the first drops. They will get well wet. 
I did not expect rain with this wind.” 

Scotia rose and went with a gay little laugh to the 
window. “ Yes, it is going to storm. I will go and see 
that dry clothing is laid out for mother and Bertha. 
Blair will come in stamping and fuming, and giving 
reason upon reason why it ought not to have rained 
to-day.” 


A SISTIlR to ESAU, 


ii6 

“ Is the minister coming to dinner ? 

“ I know not. Is he expected ? ” 

“ There is to be a meeting to-night about Disrup¬ 
tion. Blair told me he was going to speak his mind ; 
and I think he asked Mr. Bruce to dine here first.” 

“Very likely. And Blair will expect us all to goto 
the meeting and hear him speak his mind, though we 
know it already.” 

“I should think so ! For there is nothing uncer¬ 
tain anent Blair’s opinions. When he mentions relig¬ 
ion, he means the Calvinistic religion, and not only 
the Calvinistic religion, but the established kirk of 
Scotland. But he will have to be reasonable, if he 
has any discussion with Angus Bruce.” 

“ Blair reasonable ! Yes, he has the sweet reason¬ 
ableness of Sir Anthony Absolute in ‘ The Rivals' : 
‘ Hark’ee Jack, I am complaisance itself—when I’m 
not thwarted ; no one more easily led—when I have 
my own way.’ But, indeed, yonder comes the car¬ 
riage, and the driving is like the driving of Jehu, the 
son of Nimshi. Good-by till dinner time ! ” 

She put her arms around his neck, and kissed his 
lips, and called him “darling Father!” And he 
clasped her cheeks in his hands, and with a smile and 
sigh answered softly, “ Esau’s sister ! ” 


VIII. 


LOVE AND CHANGE. 

** Interest makes all seem Reason that leads to it. 

They only seem to hate, and seem to love, 

But Interest is the point on which they move.” 

— Dryden, 

“ But Love the Conqueror, Love, Immortal Love, 
Through the high heaven doth move ; 

Spurning the brute earth with his purple wings, 

And from the great sun brings 

Some radiant beam to light the House of Life.” 

—Lewis Morris. 

'^HE domestic changes accompanying and follow- 
-*• ing the engagement of Blair and Bertha were not 
happy ones to Scotia. Her position was as painful 
and peculiar as it was unforeseen and unprepared for. 
When she had answered Bertha’s entreaty for consid¬ 
eration, she had at least felt sure of Bertha’s af¬ 
fectionate gratitude; Blair’s attitude she had not 
considered of importance. But her unselfish act 
brought her nothing but ill-will. Bertha, unconscious 
of her sister’s refusal of Blair’s hand, was angry at 
Scotia for her own act of humiliation to her. In many 
unkind and unnecessary ways she was constantly made 
to feel, what a needless grace the relinquishment of 
Blair had been. 

She seized every opportunity—and she made oppor¬ 
tunities—for asserting that Blair had fallen in love 

H7 


ii8 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


with her when they first met; and had been constant 
and unfaltering in his attachment, though urged by 
her father to consider the prior claim of the eldest 
daughter. And Blair, relying on Scotia’s honorable 
nature, permitted with pleasure Bertha’s pretty version 
of their constancy and affection. For when he 
remembered the real course of their love-making, and 
saw Scotia’s face flush to Bertha’s fancies, he felt 
himself to be revenged for Scotia’s indifferences to 
him. 

These two elements were quite sufficient to keep 
Scotia’s heart hot within her. But they were not all 
that made her life a constant annoyance. The news 
of a wedding at Rodney House brought visitors in 
flocks ; and Scotia was really placed in a most humili¬ 
ating position. To sit qiiiet, and listen to Bertha 
romancing to every fresh comer about Blair’s love for 
her, was not in itself a pleasant act ; but she could feel, 
also, even where it was unspoken, the visitor’s pity for 
or triumph over herself. Many of the young ladies of 
the neighborhood were indeed delighted at her sup¬ 
posed slight and disappointment. She had offended 
them by her beauty, and snubbed them by her indif¬ 
ference to the petty objects which were their own 
ideals. Bertha was not obtrusively handsome ; Ber¬ 
tha was conservative ; Bertha liked her neighbors, 
and promised them all kinds of entertainments when 
she came into the kingdom of matrimony. 

Scotia, therefore, had to take with such outward 
good grace as she could many pitying remarks and 
much affected kindness, made up of spiteful and con¬ 
temptible revenges for past experiences of painful 
inferiority. 

She wondered a little that her father did not per- 


LOF£ AND CHANGE, 


119 


ceive her trouble and comfort her in it. If he had 
done so, there were hours when she could have wept 
in his arms, and told him the whole truth about Blair 
and Bertha. But the Colonel was simply incapable of 
seeing Scotia’s petty wrongs, and he would not have 
understood the covert thrusts given with smiles, and 
the mean little mental scratches of Bertha’s words 
and shrugs. Scotia even felt that if she complained, 
he might possibly fail to comprehend her position, 
and attribute to her motives which she held in 
supreme contempt. 

She was then in a cruel situation, one which made 
her look envious and beneath herself, no matter what 
attitude she took. For if she were gay, she was sup¬ 
posed to be hiding her chagrin and disappointment 
under the mask of levity ; and if she were grave, she 
was accused of envying her sister and fretting about 
Blair Rodney. 

Mrs. Rodney understood her very much in this way, 
and at times her sympathies were with her eldest 
daughter. But in the main Bertha’s affairs occupied 
her entirely. And Bertha’s affairs were so pleasant; 
and Bertha herself so charmingly deferential to her 
advice. Even Blair was delighted by the obedience 
and tractability of his betrothed. Twenty times a day 
he congratulated himself on the future before him : 
a wife so adoring, so submissive, so biddable ; an 
estate so ancient, so honorable, so satisfactory in the 
way of rentals. 

But no circumstances fast for ever ; day by day 
changes crept into them. When the autumn grew to 
early winter, Blair went back to Perthshire. He had 
business to arrange there, which would occupy him, 
very likely, until the spring brought his marriage day. 


120 


A SISTF.I^ TO ESA 17. 


And, perhaps, no one was very sorry to be released a 
little while from his overpowering personality. No 
one but Bertha affected it ; she indeed deplored the 
necessity with flattering regrets. 

“ Nothing would be done right at Innergrey with¬ 
out his advice and supervision—and she did rely 
on his taste in dress so much, how was her trousseau 
to proceed without his judgment ? ” She knew, in fact, 
that though Blair had presumably a great deal of 
taste, it was all bad ; and that if the house had been 
decorated and furnished, or her dresses chosen, ac¬ 
cording to it, both would have been outrages on the 
intelligence and feelings of their friends. But Bertha 
was an adept in that charming art which is so neces¬ 
sary to please and soothe masculine sensibilities—the 
art which invents for a lover all the fine qualities 
nature has denied him. And also, she understood 
the pictorial position of a sweet ignorance, and the 
danger of exciting his disgust by displaying accurate 
knowledge of any kind. 

But even Bertha was a little weary. She felt how 
refreshing it would be to go en deshabille^ both physi¬ 
cally and morally ; to be careless both of her ribbons 
and her temper for a short time. It was a wet day at 
the end of October when the relief came, and as soon 
as she had waved her handkerchief to Blair at the last 
turn, she flung herself into an easy-chair by the fire, 
with the air of one who says with mental emphasis, 
“ Thank goodness, that is over ! ” 

Scotia rdso felt the reaction. She wrapped herself 
in her duffle cloak, and went into the park. On the 
main avenues it was not unpleasantly stormy. There 
the ground was well graveled, and the swaying of the 
bare branches, and the heavy drip of the rain, and the 


LOF£ AND CHANGE, 


121 


mournful sighingof the wind, was just the antagonism 
she needed. It was the antagonism of nature ; it was 
devoid of meanness and of all ill-temper; and the 
opposition of her will to it, was a healthy opposition. 
It sent the blood racing through her body; it made 
her heart resolute, her brain clear ; it gave her hope 
and strength, and she went home, after an hour’s 
buffeting, full of physical energy and moral courage. 

Bertha had gone to bed. She was “ worn out,” she 
said ; doubtless there was much truth in the assertion. 
To play one role constantly is no easy thing. Actors, 
indeed, assert that it is the most exhausting part of 
their profession. Bertha had been playing the amiable, 
obedient, lovely, loving fia7icie^ until she was really 
“ worn out ” with the sameness of her role. Every¬ 
thing perfect is tiresome. She was going to permit 
herself the luxury of absolute selfishness and bad 
temper. She was going to be sick, or untidy, or lazy, 
if she wanted to. 

There was a general relaxation of the same kind 
throughout the house and household. It seemed 
pleasant to all, that the dinner should lack something 
of its company ceremony and elaborate preparation. 
The head hostler took his tobacco jar and newspaper 
to his room in the stables. The Colonel seldom 
entered them, and “ Mr. Blair, thank Heaven ! ” he 
muttered, “ is awa’ to Perthshire. The horses, puir 
things ! are even down sick for a day’s neglect. They 
hae been groomed beyond everything, and are as 
weary o’ brush and currycomb as I am.” 

There was the same feeling through every room and 
stall in Rodney. The gardeners and the dairy hands 
echoed it ; even the hinds and shepherds felt that it 
would be a relief to let their work fall down to a 


122 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


lower level. The steady rain storm fitted this house¬ 
hold mood exactly. It kept away all visitors. It per¬ 
mitted every one to unbend, and so recover tone and 
strength. 

After a short rest Scotia took some work and went 
to the parlor. The Colonel had just come down¬ 
stairs. Mrs. Rodney and he were talking of Scotia. 
She knew it, even as she entered. They both looked 
at her with a smile. Her appearance refreshed them. 
The life of the outer world was still about her; the 
wet vitality, the coolness, the newness and strength of 
the salt winds, and the streaming showers. It was 
like a long breath of life to come in contact with her ; 
to catch the glow from her rosy face and the light 
from her eyes, and the vivacity and buoyancy from her 
air, and smiles, and speech. 

In Mrs. Rodney’s hand there was a letter; and it 
had, somehow, a fateful look. As Scotia kissed her, 
she touched it, and said : 

“ I have been writing to your Aunt Yarrow. We 
shall see what will come of it. Your father thinks 
you ought to have a change, Scotia. He says Blair 
has taken a great deal out of every one ; but I was 
just telling Father that when I spoke to you before 
about this visit, you declined my offer.” 

“ It was different then, mother. Blair and Bertha 
were just engaged. If I had left home people would 
have said that I was disappointed—jealous—that I 
took no interest in my sister’s marriage or in the pre¬ 
parations for it. You can imagine all the spiteful, 
cruel accusations that would have sprung from my 
absence.” 

The Colonel looked sharply at Scotia ; for the first 
time he realized that she had already suffered. And 


LOVE AND CHANGE, 


123 


there was that intelligent sympathy in his glance, that 
swift comprehension of her prudence and forbearance, 
which she felt to be an over-recompense for all her 
annoyance. 

“ But now, as I have said, it is different. Blair is 
away. Bertha will go into retirement until his return. 
If my aunt is willing to receive me, I should like to 
visit her. I am a little tired of the same horizon 
every day.’' 

“ It is impossible to predict what my sister Jemima 
will say, or do, in any case,” said Mrs. Rodney, an¬ 
swering the Colonel’s interrogative look. “ And I 
really know nothing at all of her domestic arrange¬ 
ments. I suppose, from the notices 1 have seen of 
her movements, in the fashionable papers, that she 
has wealth and position ; whether she has children I 
know not.” 

“How could you let her drift so faraway from your 
life, mother ? ” 

“It was her wish to do so. I was in India, she in 
England. We had ceased to speak to each other, 
even while we lived in the same house. We never 
thought of writing. For thirty-five years we have 
had separate interests ; but for some time I have felt 
the tie of blood tugging at my heart. I have in this 
letter acknowledged my fault, and asked to be for¬ 
given. I have forgottenyher fault, and told her so. 
Shall I send the letter ? Are you willing to abide by 
its results? that is, are you willing, if she desires a 
visit, to pay it under any circumstances ? ” 

“I am, mother.” 

“ Then, Kinross, the letter shall go.” 

“ I think it ought to go. It is only by movement 
that any uncertainty can be made clear. Get Dr. 


124 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Chalmer’s last volume of sermons, Scotia, and read 
me one.” 

“ Do you like them, Father? ” 

There are single sentences in them, that thrill the 
nerves and fill the eyes with tears.” 

“ They are certainly very different from the dec¬ 
orous moral orations of the Rev. Mr. Blair.” 

^‘And yet Angus Bruce tells me that we cannot 
judge what the spoken sentences were by the printed 
page, which he likened to the locomotive with the fire 
raked out and the steam gone. However, Scotia, you 
are a good reader. Blair tried them, but he spluttered 
the fine periods as if he was intoning Gaelic. Angus 
Bruce has a different method.” 

“ A minister ought to read well;” said Mrs. Rodne)% 
with some sharpness. “ It is a part of his business.” 

“ And a very important part. It is said in Neh. viii, 
89, that the people wept when they heard the words 
of the Law ; but the preceding verse tells us that those 
who read—‘ read them distinctly.’ ” 

“Well, I do not want to hear Dr. Chalmers read 
this afternoon. I must finish my letter, and send 
Murdoch with it to the post. We should have an 
answer in about three days.” 

Now letters, as well as people, have their fatalities. 
Their messages are delayed ; they are received in un¬ 
fortunate moods ; or they have an open way, and fall 
into the hands for which they are destined in a good 
hour. Mrs. Rodney’s letter was written under pro¬ 
pitious influences. It had a speedy transit, and al¬ 
though the address had been taken from a notice in 
an Edinburgh paper, it proved to be correct. On the 
evening of the next day the postman carried it safely 
to the residence of Lady Jemima Yarrow. 


LOVE AND CHANGE. 


125 


It was received by a mournful-looking young man 
in a fine livery, and he loiteringly took it to Lady Yar¬ 
row. She was sitting alone in a large parlor, one of 
the four which occupied the principal part of the floor. 

It was handsomely but heavily furnished, in the 
dreary fashion of our grandfathers—no odds and ends 
of color, or bits of useless beauty ; but solid, dark 
woods and damask ; with great silver candelabra, and 
Eastern vases, and bronze work. It was just between 
the day and the dark, and she had laid down her 
crotchet, and was sitting very still before the fire. She 
took the letter without a word, and let it fall upon her 
lap. Very likely if we knew all the wonderful ties, 
physical and spiritual, between thoughts and personal¬ 
ities, we should understand how extremely likely and 
natural it was, that she should be at that very moment 
speculating about her long-forgotten sister. But as 
Lady Yarrow had never heard of any theory of men¬ 
tal telegraphy, she attributed the coincidence at once 
to Providential instruction, and she looked at the form 
of address, “ My dear Sister, ” with a vaguely super¬ 
stitious regard. 

The name “ Rodney " had a singular interest for her, 
and she rang impetuously for candles. Before the 
dignified and deliberate servant had lighted the whole 
number, and drawn the curtains, she had read the let¬ 
ter through. There was a red spot on her cheeks ; 
her delicate hands, half-covered with black silk mit¬ 
tens, and splendidly ringed, held the bit of paper in a 
trembling clasp. She turned to the man as he left the 
room, and said with sharp authority, “ Tell Mistress 
Ann to come here as soon as possible.” 

Pending her arrival, she walked slowly up and down 
the floor with the letter in her hands. She was a tall, 


126 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


thin woman, with a majestic carriage, and she was 
very handsomely dressed in black satin and black lace, 
and a great many gold ornaments. She watched the 
door impatiently, and when she heard a well-known, 
deliberate step, she went forward to meet the person 
she had summoned. 

“Come here, Ann. Come here, and sit down. I 
have just had a wonderful letter. I feel as if it had 
dropped from the clouds—a letter from my sister.” 

“ I ne’er heard tell before that you had a sister.” 

“ I was sitting wondering whether 1 had one or 
not, when Reuben handed me the letter from her. 
And what think you, our son is her minister ; I am 
very sure of it. Is he not placed at the kirk of Rod¬ 
ney Law ? ” 

“Just sae. Rodney Law, in Fife.” 

“ Then sit down, woman, and let us give an hour to 
simple wonder. My sister, it seems, has married the 
laird of Rodney. Woman, I was ignorant of her very 
name. I heard she had married a cavalry officer, and 
gone with him to India ; and I thought it was young 
Carstairs. So it seems the lad we quarreled about 
neither of us got. Well, I am glad of that! Maybe, 
though, Rodney is a second husband.” 

“ It seems a strange thing to have lost your ain sis¬ 
ter sae completely. Death couldna have been mail* 
oblivious.” 

“ Death would have put Dorinda in one of the two 
places, Ann ; and I could, in a fashion, have localized 
her. But wandering about in India, or wherever army 
orders sent her, was beyond my care or ability. We 
have not made a bow to each other, nor spoken, even 
an ill word, for thirty-five years !—that is a genera¬ 
tion syne.” 


LOVE AND CHANGE. 


127 


III words would hae been better than nae words ; 
for ill words may bring good words ; but from silence 
what can come ? ” 

“ Forgetfulness. I.et me tell you, though, when I 
heard first of Rodney Law, and of our son going 
there, I had a queer feeling, as if I knew the place. I 
must, in some bygone time, have heard the name of 
Rodney. Dear me, Ann ! How much the soul knows 
if it could only speak plain. We might act more wise 
like, if it could.” 

“ Not we ! There are times we wad tak’ our ain 
wills and our ain ways, though ane from the dead 
rose to forbid us. This letter is as the voice of ane 
from the dead, are you going to heed it? Is it kind¬ 
like and kin-like ? ” 

“ Listen : 

Dear Sister: 

We have been silent long enough to have forgiven and forgotten 
our ill-feeling. Let us be friends and sisters, as we ought to be. 
My husband inherited Rodney some years since, and my daughter 
Bertha is to marry the next heir, in the spring. I have only one 
other child. I have told her about you, and she wishes to pay you 
a visit. Let her innocence and good-will make a way between us. 
Dear Jemima, I await your answer, and am your affectionate sis¬ 
ter, 

Dorinda Rodney.'’ 

“ That is a good letter. Now, then, dinna think awa’ 
and reason awa’ every good and kind thought tha’ 
comes knocking at your heart. Send for the lassie. She 
is your ain flesh and blood, and I’ll warrant, she’s bon- 
nie and pleasant. It will do you a sight o’ good, to 
hae ane o’ your ain family by your side. You never 
could abide thae Yarrows.” 

“ And she will tell us all about Angus. We shall 


128 A SISTER TO ESAU. 

hear the truth from her, if so be she doesna dislike 
him.” 

“ Dislike him ! How could that be possible ! There 
is naething to dislike about our Angus. She’ll be 
hearing him preach, ony way, every Sabbath ; for kirk¬ 
going is as sure as sun-rising.” 

“ Yes, it is a social habit as well as a religious duty 
in Scotland. Well, then, I shall answer my sister’s let¬ 
ter, and send for this one child, who is not going to 
be married. I have no doubt she will keep our ears 
tingling.” 

If she says aught wrang of our Angus, she will 
find hersel’ in a good atmosphere o’ contradiction. 
Wha are the Rodneys, I wonder ? ” 

“ I know not. Some old Fife family, doubtless. 
The present laird will be setting himself up for the 
999th cousin to Noah, I’ll warrant. All Fifers are as 
old as the deluge, or a little older. Let me have a cup 
of tea, Ann ; and you may lace it with a spoonful of 
French brandy. I am fair upset with finding so many 
kin-folk in a bit of paper. To think of postmen, hav¬ 
ing a pound a week, and carrying around messages 
that God himself may have sent ; and will have to 
guide to weel or woe, or life or death. It is fearsome, 
Ann ! ” 

She sat down solemnly with the letter in her hand, 
and began to think over her answer. She was eight 
years older than her sister Dorinda, and a woman of 
much stronger character, and more decided feelings. 
Her memories, unfortunately, had no home flavor to 
sweeten them. The two girls had been left orphans 
when very young, and they had spent their girlhood 
in some fashionable school together. Yet the differ¬ 
ence in their age had for long made Jemima exercise 


LOVE AND CHANGE. 


129 


a motherly care and authority over her younger sister, 
and they were very fond of each other until a lover 
came, whom both girls believed to be entirely her 
own. Jemima accused Dorinda of cruel duplicity, in 
order to gain her lover; and she still believed she had 
been guilty. She forced herself to recall that dread¬ 
ful day, which they had passed in mutual recrimina¬ 
tions ; and the sudden resolve of each never again to 
speak to the other. 

After it, they had gone their own ways without re¬ 
gret and without recall. For no family tie is so 
variable as that of sisterhood. Where it is strong and 
real, it is as vital as the cord of life, with which it is 
indeed strongly bound. Where it is weak and false, 
it is a cobweb for any touch of fate to knot, or shrivel, 
or break in two. 

Lady Yarrow’s thoughts did not all turn kindly 
backward ; the red spot on her cheeks grew more 
vivid at some memories ; her eyes were introspective 
and somber ; she often rose and walked nervously 
about the room. There were moments when she gave 
the letter that look which we give to things which 
trouble our peace. But she knew from the first that 
she would give way to Dorinda’s wish ; the real point 
at issue was the manner in which it should be done. 
She knew that she ought to meet Dorinda with that 
noble oblivion, which disdains any allusion to the 
past; but this was just the very thing she disliked to 
do. If she could tell her sister all her faults, one by 
one, it might be easy to forgive them, one by one. 
But this general amnesty, that neither allowed her to 
show how grievously she had been wronged, nor yet 
made shiningly clear how much she had forgiven, did 
not seem lair to herself- 


130 


A SISl'EJ^ TO ESAU. 


“ Of course, Ann wanted her to write sweetly to 
Dorinda. Ann wanted to hear about Angus. Ann 
would welcome any foe, living or dead, who brought 
her a word about Angus. And Ann had not been 
slandered to the only man she ever loved, robbed of 
her life’s happiness, all her fate twisted and turned, 
by a faithless sister. Even if she had, Ann was made 
of more clay and less spirit than herself. She found 
it easier and more comfortable to forgive than to carry 
a covered-up-fire in her heart.” 

Lady Yarrow could not put such reflections out of 
her consideration. She was also curious and inter¬ 
ested about her sister and brother-in-law, and her two 
nieces. After all, they were the only kindred she had. 
As for the Yarrows, they were mere connections by 
marriage; they were alien to her family; she did not feel 
any care or liking for them ; she never admitted they 
had any claim upon her. She said audibly to herself: 
“ What if I did marry a Yarrow ? 1 did not marry all 

the Yarrows. Dorinda’s girls are different. They 
are my nieces. Lord Yarrow’s nieces are not a blood- 
drop to me. And I shall hear about Angus Bruce, 
doubtless. I want to have some outside opinion, 
Ann, of course, glorifies him and magnifies his pro¬ 
fession. He is immaculate, in her eyes. 1 am not so 
blind. If I leave him money, I must know that he is 
likely to use it well. I do not believe that the red 
coat of a soldier, or the black coat of a priest covers 
every excellency. I think I will write to Dorinda 
now—let me see-” 

She went to her desk and took from it some em¬ 
blazoned paper and a quill pen whose feathers had 
been tipped with gold. For a few minutes she stood 
by the fender trimming the point to perfection ; then 



LOr£ AND CHANGE. 131 

she resolutely sat down, and wrote in a large, rapid 
hand : 

My Dear Dorinda ; 

Your letter was a good surprise, and when women are as old 
as we are [Dorinda was always sensitive about being eight years 
younger than me] such surprises are rare enough, God knows ! I 
had always thought you married Carstairs, and the name of “ Rod¬ 
ney ” is not known to me [I am not going to pamper the Rodney 
pride], but I am very glad to find you are in Fife. The gulf between 
us is long enough, and wide enough, and this hour I have buried 
all my wrongs in it forever. [I am not going to let her think I 
had forgotten I had wrongs]. For, dear Dorinda, we are too near 
the grave to nurse anger. It would be an ill companion in the hour 
of death [Dorinda always hated to hear of death]. So send your 
daughter at once. I will give her a loving welcome. Once more, 
Yours affectionately, 

Jemima Yarrow. 

This letter arrived at*Rodney on the morning of 
the third day after Mrs. Rodney had written her sister. 
The storm was over, the world had awakened in sun¬ 
shine. Its freshness and beauty was something to sing 
about. The birds were singing about it on every 
tree—the birds who are our priests, and who chant 
for us our morning benedictions and our evening 
psalms. Scotia was out to hear them, and a flock of 
robins flew singing all around her. 

“ That is a fortunate sign,” she said. “ The birds 
know I am going away, and they approve the journey. 
I dare say there is a letter from Aunt Yarrow. I hope 
there is, for father is right; I do want a change.” 

When she went home the letter was there, and Mrs. 
Rodney was in the Colonel’s room discussing it. “ A 
very good, kind letter,” said the Colonel, who accepted 
words at their face value. Mrs. Rodney drew her 
lips into a sideway dissent, but did not voice it. She 


J 32 


A SISTEJi TO ESAU. 


felt the spirit in which it had been written, for letters 
have as much their own atmosphere as persons or as 
flowers have. There are those whom it is impossible 
to deceive by written words ; the words retain the 
animus of their evoking, and the soul of the receiver 
is sensitive to it. Mrs. Rodney had something of this 
perception, and she understood the underlying feeling 
beneath the smooth sentences. “ Jemima has not 
quite forgiven ; ” she thought, “ but the semblance of 
good-will may bring good-will, and it is for Scotia’s 
good to believe in it.” 

She therefore echoed the Colonel’s opinion, and 
accepted with such flattering haste as was possible 
the extended sceptre of Jemima’s favor. It was then 
Friday, and Lady Yarrow was informed that Scotia 
would be in Edinburgh on the following Wednesday. 
Scotia had really a pleasant excitement about the visit, 
and Mrs. Rodney gave her mind entirely to the prep¬ 
aration of her daughter for it. Bertha’s affairs were, 
for the time being, forgotten ; it was Scotia’s dresses, 
and laces, and jewelry, which occupied every one’s 
attention. Even the Colonel was anxious on the sub¬ 
ject. He wished his darling to have every advantage 
that fine raiment and radiant jewels could give her. 

Bertha felt this withdrawal of interest from her con¬ 
cerns, but she accepted it with a sweet resignation. 
Nobody knew, however, what heart-burnings this 
attention to Scotia gave her—nobody, but Blair, d'o 
him she poured out her selfish little soul in a way 
which would have shocked her friends beyond speech, 
had they been aware of it. 

“ People do things for me,” she complained, “ as if 
they were forced to do them ; and yet, Blair, my dear 
one, the whole house is a willing slave for Scotia- 


LOVE AND CHANGE. 


133 


You would think that no one ever went on a visit 
before. Such washing, and clear starching, and crimp¬ 
ing, you never saw ! Mother has given Scotia a great 
deal of her finest lace, especially one bertha I had set 
my heart on having ; also her set of Indian rubies ; 
and she has beside loaned her several diamond orna¬ 
ments. And I suppose the loan will be permanent. 
As the first bride in the family, I looked upon these 
things as naturally mine. I am sure, too, that Father 
has permitted Scotia unrestricted credit at his Edin¬ 
burgh banker’s. I heard him tell her to let no one in 
her own station out-dress her. He said he could trust 
her with the name of Rodney, even in the matter of 
dress; and a great deal more of the same talk.” 
Every night the selfish little bride relieved herself 
of the day’s tribulations, in some such complaining 
epistle to her betrothed. 

But the days were not many, and they went rapidly 
away. Scotia was as busy, and full of happy excite¬ 
ment, as a young girl may lawfully be who is going to 
make her first flight into the world ; and to whom the 
world opens up in charming vistas of new relations, 
and new scenes, and new pleasures. She had but one 
anxiety. It regarded Angus Bruce. Surely he had 
heard of her intended journey ; yet Friday night did 
not bring him to Rodney, nor Saturday either. Then 
came the Sabbath, and she knew Angus would not 
permit himself a thought beyond his duties on that 
day. He did not even glance into their pew. He 
never lifted his eyes when she came up the aisle. 
“ Monday ; ” she thought, “ will certainly bring him.” 
But Monday passed without a sign from the minister. 
“ He is angry at me for going into society, I suppose. 
He imagines I shall do nothing but dance, and dress, 


134 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


and eat fine dinners, and go shopping, and talk scan¬ 
dal. He might know me better. It is a great offense 
not to be trusted, and I will think no more of Angus 
Bruce.” 

But she could have as easily separated herself from 
herself as from Angus Bruce. He was in all her 
thoughts. When Tuesday passed without a visit from 
him, she was miserable. 

“ The minister ought to come and give me some 
good advice ; ” she said with a forced laugh. “Am 
I to go into the world and the temptations thereof, 
without any warnings ? ” 

When she had quite given up all hope of Jiis visit, 
she saw him coming through the garden with her 
father. Tiiey were strolling slowly amid the bare 
shrubbery, and their dark figures had melancholy 
aspects in the gray twilight that were very impressive. 
She was aware that the steward was waiting for the 
Colonel’s return, and she feared that when her father 
went away with him, Angus Bruce would go back to 
the village. Yet she could not bring herself to go to 
the door and meet him. Surely love might teach him 
something. If love did not give him a new intelli¬ 
gence, she could not supplement what he ought to 
understand intuitively. 

With one sandaled foot upon the fender, she stood 
in the glow of the fire-light, waiting in sick anxiety 
for what the next few moments would bring her. She 
heard a quick step approaching ; her heart beat to 
it ; she heard the door open and close, and she knew 
who had entered ; but she kept her thoughtful, still 
attitude, and did not lift her eyes till Bruce was at her 
side. 

“ I feared you were not coming.” The words were 


LOr £ AND CHANGE . I35 

true words. They rang softly, with inflections of 
loving reproach. 

“ How could you doubt me ? Scotia Rodney, lift 
your face to mine. Dearest woman on earth, let me 
look at you, while I venture at last to say, I love you ! 
1 love you with all my heart and soul ! You have the 
full measure of all'the love in my nature. I have 
loved no other woman ! I nevershall love any other ! 
For time and eternity you are mine, or—I am alone 
forever. Scotia ! Scotia.” 

He stood with outstretched arms ; his face was 
luminous ; his eyes were dilated with rapture ; he was 
simply irresistible to the girl who loved him. For he 
had been taken possession of by a spirit, vivid as 
flame, and pure as heaven. His hands, his eyes, his 
handsome face, his erect figure, and miraculous 
powers ; they drew her, as magnets draw. 

She had no will but his will. The words he wished 
her to say, he put into her heart. She lifted her rosy 
face, she gave him the salutation of her eyes, she in¬ 
clined her heart and body toward him ; she said 
sweetly and clearly, without a shadow of conventional 
hesitation, “ Angus ! you know that I love you !” 

Yes, he knew she loved him. The words were 
transformed into a kiss, as she uttered them. They 
clasped hands, and walked together in the red fire 
light, as if they were in a new world. There never 
had been such glory of sunlight as was in their hearts. 
Mortal man and woman had never sung such songs of 
joy as they sang together, in broken words, and long 
fond looks,and still more perfect silence. 

The heavenly trance was broken by the entrance of 
Bertha. “Dear me ! ” she said, “ I had no idea you 
had company, Scotia. I was coming to tell you 


136 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


mother’s headache is so bad she will not come down 
stairs to-night. I hope I do not intrude and with a 
little laugh, and a pretty movement of her body, she 
went away with the air of one who had committed an 
indiscretion, and been made to feel it. 

“ What a good thing 1 had not sealed my letter ! 
I must tell Blair about this new affair. I am sure 
Angus Bruce was making love to Scotia—and Scotia 
liked it. Fancy Scotia a minister’s wife ! Our min¬ 
ister’s wife ! Blair, his patron ! ” She went slowly 
back to her room, speculating on this fresh subject. 
She added a postscript to her letter, and then she 
resolved to go back to the parlor. The Exercise was 
excuse enough. It was quite time for it. She had a 
right to suppose she was wanted there. 

Yet she said sweetly as she entered—“ Shall I be 
in the way? No? I am so glad. Mother is quite 
sick. I am uneasy about her. She has tired herself 
out the last few days.” 

“ You had better say the last few months, Bertha.” 

“Months, then. Where is Father? I thought it 
was time for the Exercise. Were you telling any 
secrets? Have I spoiled fun ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” answered Scotia. Angus sat silent, 
intensely happy, and yet annoyed and disturbed at 
Bertha’s interruption ; for he was just telling Scotia 
how he had felt himself bound until that very night 
by his promise to leave Blair Rodney the freest pos¬ 
sible choice. “ But as I walked with the Colonel an 
hour ago, he told me that Blair had chosen ; he 
thanked me for my forbearance, and when I said I 
had somewhat to say to Miss Rodney, he answered, 
‘ You have a right, sir, to say whatever is proper for 
Miss Rodney to hear ! ’ lam sure he understood that 


ZOF£ AiVD CHANGE. 137 

I loved you, Scotia, and that I intended to tell you 
so.” 

It was at this point Bertha entered the room, and 
all further confidence was arrested. For in a few 
minutes the Colonel and his household joined them, 
and the Exercise and the supper came in their due 
course ; and after it, the parting words. Bertha was 
determined to hear them. She kept close to Scotia's 
side, and she was unusually effusive to the minister. 

She thought she heard all that was said. She 
heard nothing ; and yet everything was said. It is a 
clumsy lover that cannot speak with shut lips. Scotia 
was quite satisfied with her Xowtr's adieu /It went 
to her heart by a more direct road than through the 
winding ear-path. 

She was now ready for her journey. It began very 
early in the morning, and it did not end until the 
shadows of evening were falling across the dark, 
stately-looking Yarrow House. Scotia regarded it 
with interest and without fear. And as she did so, 
the wide doors were flung open, and she saw advanc¬ 
ing through the brilliantly lighted hall, an old lady 
very magnificently dressed. 

She put out her hands to clasp Scotia’s hands, she 
looked at her with kind curiosity, she said pleasantly; 
“ My dear, you are very welcome ! What is your 
name ? ” 

And Scotia, bending her beautiful head, answered 
with a smile, “ My name is Scotia! ” 


IX. 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES. 

But here they found a fervid race 
Whose sternly-glowing piety 
Scorned paper laws. Their free-bred souls 
Went not with priests to school, 

To trim the tippet and the stole, 

And pray by printed rule. 

But they would cast the eager word 
From their heart’s fiery core ; 

Smoking and red, as God had stirred 
The Hebrew men of yore. 


— Blacku. 


HAT think you of our new niece, Ann ? ” 



* * “I think she is a good lassie, and a beauty; 
and as our son was born wi’ eyes in his head, he has 
doubtless found it out.” 

“ Ah, Ann, what a grand thing youth is ! And yet 
the remembrance of it leaves a sigh. She reminds 
me of a Jemima Yarrow, long dead and forgotten, and 
I look at her and sigh for myself.” 

“Yes, yes ! It is aye the past, and the future, we 
set store by ; the poor, ill-used present is naething to 
us ; and yet it brings us handfuls o’ blessings.” 

“ Do not preach, Ann. Leave that to our son. One 
preacher in a family is enough.” 

“ She kens weel how to dress hersel’. She maist 
took my breath from me when she came down the 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES. 139 

oak stairway in that floating garment o’ white tulle, 
wi’ the silvery stars shot through it.” 

“ And the pale azure foundation—that was my 
thought. Scotia is well aware that a woman is the 
least part of herself. I thank my stars-” 

“You hae God to thank, Lady Jemima, and the 
stars are na yours to swear by.” 

“You are preaching again, Ann. It is well seen 
where our son gets his pulpit taste. I have asked 
Scotia all about her own people, and about the Cu- 
pars, and others whose names and connections 1 hap¬ 
pen to know, and we have talked of this, that, and the 
other, but never a word came out of her mouth about 
Angus Bruce. It is very suspicious. Sometimes she 
is very quiet. I believe the girl has a secret trouble.” 

“ Man—and woman mair than man—is born to trou¬ 
ble. There is nae happiness here below.” 

“ Nonsense, Ann ! It is a sour philosophy that 
asserts man never is, but always to be, blest. I was 
once in love, and very near in paradise;”—and the 
old lady smiled and sighed, and straightened her mit¬ 
tens, and turned her rings around to memories that 
sent a flood of rose color into her cheeks. 

This conversation occurred on the evening of the 
third day of Scotia’s stay with her aunt, and it was 
interrupted by her entrance. She came in with her 
work-basket in her hand, and Lady Yarrow nodded 
approval of her industry. Ann was already seated 
at the table, hemstitching some cambric for Lady 
Yarrow’s morning gowns ; and the atmosphere of the 
fine room, filled with fire and candle-light, was ex¬ 
ceedingly calm and cheerful, and conducive to sympa¬ 
thetic companionship. 

Scotia had fallen readily into the ways of a house- 



140 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


hold so finely and quietly ordered. Her life was likely 
to be methodical, but not devoid of interest. On the 
previous evening there had been a quiet dinner party, 
consisting of Judge Cardiff, and the Rev. Mr. Geddes, 
and young Captain Ochiltree, and Dr. McManus, one 
of the bright literary lights which illumined the pages 
of Blackwood and the young reviews ; and after a 
merry dinner they had gone to a military dance, given 
by the commander of the castle troops. 

To Scotia it had been a very grand and notable 
affair ; and she had just spent a couple of hours writ¬ 
ing her father and mother an account of both dinner 
and dance. She came into the room with the excite¬ 
ment of the memory in her glinting eyes and rosy face ; 
and took the low chair opposite Lady Yarrow, which 
a kindly glance indicated to her, and which placed 
her within the direct observation of both Lady Yar¬ 
row and Ann. 

“ I like to see you, my dear. Where have you been 
for the past three hours ? ” 

“Two hours, aunt. I was writing a letter to my 
Father, and was telling him all about Mr. Geddes, and 
the captain and the judge. It was quite a famous 
party for a country girl, Aunt.” 

“Yes ; the Law and the Gospel, the Sword and the 
Pen, crossed knives and forks together. What did 
you think of the minister ? He is a descendant of 
that Jenny Geddes who threw her cutty stool at the 
English preacher’s head, when he ‘ daured ’ to read 
prayers in a Scotch kirk. Poor Jenny believed read¬ 
ing prayers to be nothing less than popery.” 

“ And plenty o’ good people think wi’ Jenny yet, 
and are na that far wrang.” 

“Yet, Ann, if Jenny had only listened, instead of 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES, 


141 

flying into a fishwife passion, she would have heard 
one of the grandest collects in the English service.” 

“ I ken naething o’ col-lects,” said Ann sourly. 
“ col-lects are na prayers, and folk hae little sense o’ 
true religion wha fling a col-lect in the face o’ Al¬ 
mighty God.” 

But a collect is a prayer, Ann.” 

I’m doubting it, Miss Rodney. If it be a prayer, 
why call it out o’ its name ? ” 

“Ann,” said Lady Yarrow, “Ann, do not be a 
bigot. The collect Jenny Geddes got into a passion 
anent, is one of the grandest prayers in the world ; 
and if you will put down your needles, and listen in a 
proper spirit, I will say it for you.” She stood up 
reverently as a little child, and while Scotia and Ann 
sat with dropped eyes and still hands, she recited the 
prayer which had once raised such a tumult in the 
High Kirk of Edinburgh : 

Lord of all power and might, who art the author and giver of all 
good things, graft in our hearts the love of Thy Name ; increase 
in us true religion, nourish us with all goodness, and of Thy great 
mercy, keep us in the same, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. 
Amen. 

“ You see,” she added, as she resumed her seat, 
and returned to her usual voice, “ I learned it speci¬ 
ally to be ready for her reverend great-great-grand- 
son. He is very proud of his descent from the 
outrageously bigoted old woman, and I was not going 
to have Jenny Geddes pushed on my approbation. I 
have had the collect ready for the minister for a year, 
and he has not yet given me my chance. At the first 
of our acquaintance, it was the blue and yellow 
wisdom of the Reviews ; and now it is the Free Kirk, 
and Dr. Chalmers, and again, the Free Kirk.” 


142 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


** He talked to you of nothing else, Aunt. I heard 
him call Dr. Chalmers the Maccabeus of the Scottish 
Kirk.” 

“Yes ; and he got up on his highest horse when I 
said Chalmers was prelatic ; and would like nothing 
better than to make the world over, after the dispen¬ 
sation by Chalmers.” 

“ I have no doubt that Chalmers is a wonderful 
orator, and I want to hear him preach. I tried U) 
listen to what Mr. Geddes was telling you about some 
lecture at the university, but I failed to understand. 
Captain Ochiltree was describing a garrison festivity 
at the same time.” 

“ He was telling me that Dr. Chalmers was lectur¬ 
ing on the impossibility of order arising out of chaos, 
without the agency of an intelligent Creator ; and he 
said, by degrees, not merely the front rows, but the 
whole class, rose to their feet as he spoke. Certainly 
a wonderful evidence of his power, for if there is an 
obstreperous, contumacious, dogged, pragmatical, 
opinionative, pertinacious, headstrong, unpolished, 
Vandalic, Hunnish, impertinent set of youths, it is an 
Edinburgh College class, freshman or sophomore. 
However, if they have the faults, they have also the 
excellencies of their race; though they cannot be 
ordered or coaxed, they can be reasoned with. A 
close logician, a fine orator, makes them as dumb 
beasts before him, and anon, he turns them into 
reasonable creatures.” 

“ Have you ever heard him speak. Aunt?” 

“ Once, on ‘ The Freedom of the Will’—or rather 
on its bondage ; for he believes in absolute predesti¬ 
nation. He did not move me an inch, for when the 
freedom of our will is disproved, then responsibility 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES, 


143 


and future retribution, are also disproved. Tut, tut ! 

I never yet did wrong, I could not have done right." 

“ Such points are aboon our wit or wisdom, Lady 
Jemima; we shall hae to wait to another life to hae 
them solved." 

“ Ann, we do not solve great questions by adjourn¬ 
ing them to another life. The Freedom of the Will 
is a question of tremendous interest for this life." 
Then she said suddenly to Scotia,—“ My dear, you 
have a minister at Rodney Law, I suppose ? " 

“Oh, yes ! A very good one." She blushed from 
her temples to her finger tips, and let her thimble 
fall, and stooped to look for it, and thus gave Lady 
Yarrow and Ann time to exchange an intelligent com¬ 
ment on her behavior. 

“You have the Free Kirk controversy also, 
Scotia ? ” 

“Every one has it. Our minister is very decidedly 
in favor of a Free Kirk.” 

“You have not told me anything about your minis¬ 
ter. What kind of a man is he ? ” 

“ A very good man.” 

“ Clever ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Young ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Do you like him ?” 

“ Every one likes him—except cousin Blair Rodney. 
Blair is in favor of State patronage.” 

“ I wish you would tell me something definite about 
the man—I mean the minister. As to his appear¬ 
ance, now?” 

Scotia dropped her work, and seemed to be men¬ 
tally regarding her subject. ” He is about twenty-six 


144 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


years old—perhaps more. He has a noble counte¬ 
nance, fashioned so by a noble soul; and when great 
words fall from his lips, they flash across his face also. 
Father admires him very much, and is always glad to 
be in his company.” 

‘‘ And I dare say he is generally respected ? ” 

“The kirk is now crowded, every service. Mr. 
Laing used to preach to about forty of our shepherds 
and tenants. Many who are opposed to Mr. Bruce’s 
views on church government, go gladly to hear him 
preach. Some come from a great distance. He is 
quite a famous man in our boundaries.” 

“ Can you tell me anything about his sermons ? 
What makes them so popular ? ” 

“ He is so much in earnest, so solemnly in earnest— 
so terribly, so Calvinistically in earnest, that you feel 
he believes that it is either heaven or hell for every 
one present. His words find you out, and they are 
words that burn themselves into the memory. Even 
Adam Cowrie, who has his doubts about every Chris¬ 
tian man and woman living, admits Mr. Bruce’s spirit¬ 
uality and orthodoxy.” 

“ He is called Bruce.” 

“ Yes. Angus Bruce.” 

Her face was vivid again, her needle shook, she felt 
her aunt’s eyes were upon her, and she made a great 
effort to appear indifferent to Angus Bruce, as she 
forced herself to continue : 

“ He is very cheerful, as a rule, though sometimes 
melancholy. He dresses handsomely, and has the 
finest manners imaginable ; as grand a man alto¬ 
gether, Aunt, as is between Edinburgh and wherever 
he is.” 

“ Married ? ” 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES, MS 

“ No ; nor, I think, like to be. An old man and 
woman take care of the manse, but it is a cold, deso¬ 
late house, and he must miss many a comfort.” 

“ Does he ever come to Edinburgh ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, my dear, I have no doubt he is all you say— 
an apostle in the gown and bands of the nineteenth 
century. Rank exists in the moral, as well as in the 
social world. This Angus Bruce must be a spiritual 
prince, and I am glad such a fine fellow is not care¬ 
less about his dress, which is one of the deadly sins, 
my dear, among respectable people. And I am glad 
he has the courage of his own opinions. There is a 
little Englishman who visits me sometimes—one of 
those clergymen whom Jenny Geddes waged war on— 
and he makes me long to be a radical, he is so mon¬ 
strously conservative. He has swallowed all the 
thirty-nine articles, and would have done so had there 
been thirty times as many. At present he has some 
project for converting the Jews; I should like to tell 
you what Ann said to him.” 

“ I should like to hear what she said. Aunt.” 

“ He talked a long while, and Ann listened very 
doucely till he had finished ; then she said, ‘ Mr. 
Sandford, I’m no clear that we should hurry Provi¬ 
dence after any sic fashion. When the Jews are con¬ 
verted, the world is to come to an end ; and bad as it 
is. I’m no carin’ to hae the catastrophe in my day.’ 
That settled the young priest, and he took his tea and 
muffin to more wise-like talk. Now, my dear, what 
kind of people does this Mr. Bruce preach to ? Are 
his congregation able to appreciate the blessing that 
has fallen to their lot .^” 

“ There are some families of wealth and cultiva- 


146 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


tion, but the majority of the listeners are shepherds 
and fishers.” 

“ Dear me!” 

“ But Aunt, it is the shepherds and fishers who 
really appreciate a fine sermon best. No milk for 
babes for them. They must have the strong meat of 
The Word. If Mr. Bruce should drop a link in John 
Calvin’s close-wedged creed, they would take him to 
task about it without scruple—especially the fishermen, 
who, generally speaking, know the ‘Institutes’ as well 
as they know their own fishing nets.” 

Then the conversation turned upon the fishing vil¬ 
lage and its inhabitants, and on this subject Ann was 
singularly interested. “ I was born at the seaside,” 
she said, after a long conversation, “ and whiles I get 
land-sick, and hae to go down to the flats near the 
tide water, and hear the plovers wailing, and the 
shore-larks calling sadly, through the long wet days, 
it is a home call to me. I never think it melancholy. 
Only last night I stood by the open window, and 
minded myself o’ the clear frosty nights, when the 
boats were like ghosts on the water, and the night was 
thick wi’ stars, and the long flights o’ ducks and geese 
went rustling through the frosty air.” 

“You make me shiver, Ann. Let us have a little 
supper, and we will go to sleep and dream of the sea. 
It is wonderful how often people do dream of it—even 
those who never saw it.” 

But Lady Yarrow did not attempt to go to sleep when 
she had dismissed her niece and her friend. She sat 
some time thinking, and then went to a desk and wrote 
the following message to her lawyer: 

Mr. Noble. 

Sir: I will have you write at once to the Rev. Angus Bruce, 
as I now direct. Say thus, and so—the friend who has cared for 


A.VGUS BRUCE DECIDES, 


147 


you all your life, wishes to know how you stand by the kirk of 
Scotland, in this, her hour of tribulation ? If all forsake her, are 
you faithful? Are you a follower of John Knox or of Dr. Chal¬ 
mers? Tell him distinct and plain, if he stands by the kirk his 
friend will see that he has quick and great advancement in the 
kirk ; and that all his future will be placed beyond worldly care. 
Tell him just as distinctly, if he deserts the kirk for Dr. Chalmers, 
he must look for his bite and sup, his place and portion from Dr. 
Chalmers. And you’ll give him three days to think over what is 
said, and so make his election sure and final. 

Jemima Yarrow. 

This letter, written with all the particularity of its 
instructions, reached Angus Bruce one evening just 
as he was leaving the manse for Rodney House. It 
was like a thunder-bolt. He stood some minutes 
looking at it, with a face full of indeterminate anxiety 
and strange trouble. Slowly he removed his hat and 
coat; then he locked the door of the room, and plac¬ 
ing the letter before him, began to consider its 
answer. 

The consideration forced him backward, and com¬ 
pelled him to recall the days of his life—a retrospect 
full of mystery and of unsatisfied longing and curi¬ 
osity. His first distinct memory was of the large 
school, where he had spent, not unhappily, the second 
seven years of his existence. All was clear enough 
about those years. He still wrote to his old master ; 
in some respects, he remembered this school as other 
boys remember their home. 

It was the first seven years of his life, which were 
like a vaguely splendid drama, the scenes of which 
were laid in three different houses. Best of all, he 
remembered one house standing in the middle of what 
his childish memory had imagined an endless garden. 
In his dreams he still wandered there, though never 
as a boy, because it is not given to man or woman to 


148 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


be young again, even in dreams. The great brown 
house, with its lofty rooms, and wide halls, and queer 
furniture, was yet so real to him that he drew them 
on the paper by his side, as he recalled their peculiari¬ 
ties. 

There were two other houses, but they were far 
less real; houses among a great many other houses ; 
vast, gloomy, looming through the mists of memory, 
like Arabian dreams ; full of uncertain sounds, and 
gleaming lights, and the passing of splendidly dressed 
men and women ; whom he watched surreptitiously 
from some unsuspected hiding place. And from all 
the dramatis personas connected with these three 
dwellings, only two had any individuality to him. 

Both were women. At the feet of one he used to 
play. Her splendor and authority affected him yet; 
he was sensitive to a kind of “hush” that fell upon 
his spirit whenever he recalled her stately beauty. 
The other woman had carried him in her arms, and 
held him upon her knees. He still felt her warm 
kisses, and awoke from dreams of her, expecting to 
see her face smiling above his face, and to feel her 
lips upon his lips. 

All these things were still vivid in his remembrance ; 
they had once been more so. What did they mean ? 
Was there any reason why his birth should be hid¬ 
den ? For a moment a shameful doubt and fear 
came into his heart. Was he the illegitimate child of 
some noble family ? He put the thought angrily 
away. It was impossible ! There had been a law in 
Scotland forbidding such unfortunate children to 
enter the ministry ; and whether the law had been re¬ 
pealed or not, he was sure that the popular feeling on 
this subject would have prevented his dedication to 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES. 


149 


holy office. Besides, what son will permit himself to 
doubt his mother, even though she be unknown to 
him ! Angus Bruce was at that moment ready to de¬ 
fend his mother, even against the unbidden sugges¬ 
tions of his perplexed imaginations. 

Who, then, was the person who had the right to 
question his opinions, and the power to advance him 
to wealth, or leave him to the fate which freedom of 
thought and action might bring him ? As for the 
question which was to decide that fate, it was already 
answered. Future advancement, or certain wealth, 
could not possibly alter the decision he had already 
made. The Kirk was right. The State was wrong. 
He was on the side of the Kirk, whatever the result 
might be. 

At this point he remembered Scotia. Rapid ad¬ 
vancement and a certain income meant a speedy 
realization of all his dreams of married bliss. He 
drew his brows together, as a man may do for a pass¬ 
ing pain ; but the next moment he had put the temp¬ 
tation behind him. “ No ; not even for Scotia will I 
deny the truth that is in me ! Nor would Scotia de¬ 
sire me to do it. I know the integrity of her noble 
heart. And as for man’s promise or man’s threats, I 
will neither regard nor fear it. Right is right. 
Right, whatever befall, and my conscience must be 
satisfied, though my heart go hungry, even to the 
grave.” 

He put the letter in his pocket and walked rapidly 
to Rodney House. They were discussing Scotia’s let¬ 
ter when he arrived. And there had also been one 
from Lady Yarrow, expressing her delight in Scotia’s 
society. “ She is altogether charming, and after I 
have shown the civil and military lords of Edinburgh 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


150 

what a Fife beauty is, I am going to take her to 
Court, and fill the Court with envy and admiration.” 

The Colonel was quite excited over his favorite’s 
success and happiness, and Mrs. Rodney looked at 
her sister’s letter with a new-found pleasure. As for 
Bruce, he could easily imagine his love in that robe 
of white tulle and silver stars. He could place her 
upon the arm of some handsome officer in splendid 
tartans, and estimate the temptations to which she 
was exposed. He believed that her love for him 
would preserve her spotless from all taint of pride, or 
vanity, or fashion ; but yet, he would have been glad 
if she had not been led into such great temptation. 
On the whole, the news he heard did not make easier 
the decision forced upon him. Such experiences of 
life were not the fit preparation for the wife of a 
minister of the Gospel. Might he not lawfully put 
aside the public question for the private one ? The 
honor of the kirk for the spiritual good of the woman 
who was to be his wife ? He did not give a moment’s 
place to such appeals, but the keen heart conflict af¬ 
fected him socially; he could not sympathize so 
cordially with the Colonel’s moods, and the visit was 
so constrained that he left very early. 

“ Mr. Bruce did not like to hear of Scotia’s going 
out so much into the world. 1 could see how annoyed 
he was, at the mention of Castle balls, and Court balls, 
and such grand festivities ! ” said Bertha. 

“ The minister was bored to death with conversation 
so far away from his own interests. He simply cannot 
conceive of people caring for any subject not con¬ 
nected with Dr. Chalmers and the Free Kirk.” 

“You are mistaken. Father. He was dreadfully 
annoyed about Scotia.” 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES. 151 

“ What has the minister to do with your sister’s 
affairs ? ” 

“ Perhaps more than you imagine. I think he is in 
love with Scotia.” 

“ Bertha, you have one idea at present, that is love. 
Do not think that every man in the world is in the 
condition of Blair. Mr. Bruce is too much occupied 
with the concerns of the kirk, to give any attention to 
young girls. I do not suppose he sees them.” 

The Colonel spoke with great irritation, and to pre¬ 
vent further discussion of the subject, rang the bell 
for the Exercise. 

In spite of Scotia’s and Lady Yarrow’s letters, the 
atmosphere of the house was restless and unhappy. 
For as one note out of tune in a key-board can fret 
the whole music played on it, so, also, can one heart 
out of sympathy in a household fret the whole happi¬ 
ness to discord. And Bertha had divined the minis¬ 
ter’s disapproval by her own envious pain ; her jeal¬ 
ousy of Scotia’s success and happiness, having some 
kinship with the natural jealousy of a lover, who knows 
others are basking in the light he is shut away from. 

She called her mother to her room, and did not 
scruple to express her sense of disappointment and 
loss. “ Scotia is having so many fine chances. Dear 
mother, why did you not think of Aunt Yarrow for 
me ? ” 

“ Bertha, your envious temper makes me angry. 
You said you wished to marry Blair, and be Mistress 
of Rodney. I told you how to accomplish that des¬ 
tiny—the way was through your sister’s heart. You 
took it, and reached your desire. Hitherto you have 
been satisfied with it, are you sorry because your 
sister is happy ? ” 


A SISTEJ^ TO ESAU. 


152 

“ You never told me about my Aunt Yarrow—until 
I had chosen Blair. And Scotia did not give up any¬ 
thing for me. Blair had chosen me when I spoke to 
Scotia.” 

“ Blair asked Scotia to marry him, before he asked 
you. Scotia refused him for your sake.” 

“ Mother, it is too bad to say such cruel things. 
Every one knows Blair fell in love with me the first 
hour he came to Rodney.” 

“ You have told every one so.” 

“ Well then, if Blair asked Scotia first, he can marry 
Scotia. I will not marry him.” 

“ Do as you wish, my dear.” 

“ Mother, how can you be so unkind ? ” 

“ Bertha, how can you be so selfish and ungenerous ? 
To sympathize in Scotia’s pleasure is not to lessen 
your own. To care only for yourself is to care for a 
very mean person. Go away now, and consider your 
own heart; I am tired. I will talk no more to-night.” 

During this conversation the minister was walking 
rapidly through the park. His feeling on leaving the 
unaccordant company was one of mental nausea. But 
the mere exchanging of the light and warmth of 
human life for the cool spaces of the night and the 
solemn company of the stars, made him at once a 
citizen of a different world, and inverted in a step his 
relationships. All that was spiritual in his nature 
became dominant. The sober realm of the leafless 
trees was full of soft mysterious sounds, that fell as 
gently on"his troubled heart as tired eyelids fall upon 
tired eyes. 

He really had no doubts about Scotia. He judged 
her as incapable of deceiving him as he was of deceiv¬ 
ing her. The vague restlessness of his heart arose 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES. 153 

from the change in his circumstances. He knew that 
one change often brings others, and he peered vainly 
into the future to see where change might become 
stability again. 

When he came to the little gate that opened into 
the kirk-yard he paused a moment, and then passed 
through it. On the bare white flags he set his feet 
gladly, their clean solidity, in place of the soft muddy 
roadside, suited the decided tenor of his thoughts. 
He looked up at the plain, granite kirk, devoid of all 
material beauty, and with spiritual love clasped it to 
his heart. Alone, amid the dead, through storm and 
darkness, the building had stood for centuries ; a 
sacred symbol of that living church which was the 
Bride of Christ. 

Would he put king or kaiser, queen or woman, 
above Christ in his own church ? He would die joy¬ 
fully rather than do it. Gold and advancement, love 
and marriage, Scotia and home, these were fair offers ; 
but he would not market celestial rights with merchant 
measure for them. If he did so, he might indeed live in 
fatted comfort, and slide into a cushioned grave, but 
what of the after-reckoning ! He could not pay it with 
an eternity of remorse. 

Nor would he wrong the martyrs whose blood had 
glued the sacred stones of his stout mother-kirk. 
Walter Myln, Patrick Hamilton, Bullion Green, the 
many-wandering Veitch, and all the Covenanting 
men-of-war, they called to him out of the past, and 
he answered them. And as he did so, he lifted 
his pale, rapt face to the lonely, solemn building— 
a face full of devotion and strength. Then he 
breathed with a more ample breath, he looked for¬ 
ward with a bolder scope, and without further parley 


154 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


with himself, walked with firm and rapid step through 
sodden turf, and miry road, straight to his manse and 
his study. It was now easy to answer the letter which 
had at first confounded him, and he took his pen and 
wrote : 

Mr. Noble. 

Sir: I do not require three days to consider your letter. I 
should be a poor son of Scotland, and a poor son of her noble 
kirk, if I was still considering a subject that has stirred every heart 
from Shetland to Galloway for weeks and months. I believe the 
Kirk of Scotland to be absolutely right in asserting that she can 
have no superior in things spiritual, but the Lord Christ. Scots¬ 
men will not have their kirk a hanger-on to the State, bound to 
her by a golden link, a paltry regiuni donum. Truth is a danger¬ 
ous thing to say, but when God lends it a voice, it flies from heart 
to heart like fire. The State will find this fire unquenchable! 
Say to the friend who has so nobly cared for me all my life, that 
I regret he thinks not with me—that I love and honor him for the 
kindness, wisdom, and generosity which has guided and sheltered 
my childhood, youth, and manhood. Whatever tie of kinship or 
friendship binds us, he may now lawfully throw off its obligations. 
My gratitude is for benefits extending through life and into eter¬ 
nity ; it must therefore have a duration equal to its claim. And 
this is my sincere and final answer to your communication. 

Respectfully, 

Angus Bruce. 

This letter went to Lady Yarrow’s bedroom with 
her early cup of tea. She sipped her tea, and ate her 
toast as she read it. The laddie is in a blaze of 
spiritual temper. I’ll warrant he is praising himself 
for it. He thinks, too, that 1 am a man ! ” and Lady 
Yarrow laughed softly at the mistake. “If I had 
been a man, I would have been ordering him here and 
there, and telling him to do thus and so, all the live¬ 
long time. A man could not have kept the secret of 
his own good deed a month after the lad was able to 


ANGUS BRUCE DECIDES. 


155 


say ‘I thank your Honor!’ The word ‘I’ wonkl 
have weighed so heavy on his under lip, it would have 
drawn after it—‘ I feed you.’ ‘I clothe you.’ ‘ I pay 
your school bills.’ ‘ You ought to praise and glorify 
me exclusively and continually.’ That was the way 
with Lord Yarrow and the two nephews he sent to sea. 
Poor motherless bairns ! But Yarrow was no excep¬ 
tion. Very few can keep to themselves any good 
thing they do. It whirls about in their memory, it looks 
out from their eyes, it burns on their tongue, and at last 
it steps out, smirking and smiling from between their 
lips. In this respect I am a Pharisee. I can honestly 
thank God, I am not as other men !—nor even eis 
other women. I have kept my good deed secret for 
twenty-five years. Even when I heard the lad preach 
so grandly, I held my own tongue. And Ann wonders 
whatever kind of flesh and blood I am made of! ” 

With a smile of satisfaction she folded the letter 
and put it under her pillow. Then she had her tray 
removed, and lay down for her second sleep. About 
eleven o’clock Ann entered the room, and Lady Yar¬ 
row lifted herself slightly, and said : 

“ I have had a letter from our son, Ann. A grand 
letter. It is just what^t expected. He has stood his 
first trial bravely. Now, Ann, I am going to give you 
a surprise. I am going to send you on a great mes¬ 
sage. You must go and tell Angus the whole truth, 
and we will see how his reverence takes it.” 

“ My dear lady, is not one trouble enough for one 
year ? The puir lad is to lose baith kirk and manse, 
and fortune ; for if he goes out wi’ the protestors next 
May, he leaves kirk and manse behind him, and you 
empty his pockets. And ever the big trouble brings 
a lot o’ little troubles that no one kens about ; and 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


156 

whiles these wee worries are the worst o’ all to thole. 
The lad has plenty o’ worry. I will na add ane to 
them. No ! I’ll be silent forever rather.” 

“ Ann ! you must go and see him next week.” 

I’ll no go near him.” 

“ Yes you will, Ann. Help me to dress, and then 
we will talk over the plan I have made ; and I’ll read 
you his letter. It is a fine letter, Ann. You will have 
to trust me in this matter, woman. Have I ever been 
unkind to the lad ? ” 

“ You have been fayther and mither, baith, to him.” 

“ Yes, I have. Is it likely I will turn against him 
now ? Ann, you will have to go to Rodney Law next 
week. There is nothing to fear. Oh woman, how 
faithless you are ! Do you want me to go ? ” 

“ No, I can travel the road mysel’.” 


X. 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER. 

Ah, God ! My child ! my first, my living child ! 

I have been dreaming of a thing like thee 
E’er since a babe, upon the mountains wild 
I nursed my mimic babe upon my knee.” 

— Wade. 

** Bright as his manly sire my son shall be 
In form and soul ; but ah ! more blest than he ! 

Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love at last 
Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past.” 

— Rogers. 

relationship between Lady Yarrow and Ann 
was one about which man}^ people had once specu¬ 
lated, and Scotia could not help, in her companionship 
with the two women, wondering what singular bond 
of interest or affection made their friendship so close 
and lasting. For the thought of kinship did not 
seem possible. Lady Yarrow was one of her own 
family, a woman of high birth and fine breeding ; 
moreover, one who had opened her soul to every wind 
of life that brought on its wings wider thought or cul¬ 
tivation. Everything about her friend Ann pointed 
to lowly birth, insufficient education, and those posi¬ 
tive opinions and prejudices which are usually found 
in primitive natures. 

Yet Lady Yarrow exacted from her household the 
same respect for her friend as she did for herself. If 


157 


158 


A S/Sr£J! TO ESAU. 


she sat at the head of the table, Ann sat at the foot. 
Ann had the most positive authority over everything. 
She engaged or dismissed servants as she thought 
proper ; she examined and paid all bills ; she took 
the whole burden of the housekeeping upon her shoul¬ 
ders. She was Lady Yarrow’s closest companion ; 
they spoke to each other with perfect freedom and 
familiarity ; and yet Ann rendered her friend the ser¬ 
vice of a maid, and very often received, with apparent 
indifference, orders and reproofs, which indicated that 
beneath the surface of equality there was a radical 
social difference which both acknowledged. 

Lady Yarrow made no explanations to Scotia on 
this subject; probably the position had become so 
natural to herself that she forgot any explanation was 
necessary. Yet there had been a time when society 
had been rebellious about Mistress Ann, and people 
of pronounced social views had refused to accept her. 

Then surmises had been many and unpleasant; they 
had died out; they had begun again ; they had finally 
passed away altogether ; and Lady Yarrow’s acquaint¬ 
ances had accepted Ann for all she required, which 
was not very much—her place at table and her chair 
in some quiet corner, where she sat with a piece of 
work in her hands, if the company were informal. In 
more ceremonious gatherings, Ann usually disappeared 
when dancing and card playing began. 

“ My friend has some fixed opinions, and she is em¬ 
bayed in them like a ship in ice,” explained Lady 
Yarrow, “but she is conscientious, and we must re¬ 
spect her scruples.” 

All wonders and queries had, however, long been 
over when Scotia visited her aunt ; and Mistress Ann 
in her black silk dress and white lace cap and neck- 


BRUGE FINDS A MOTHER, 159 

erchief, was as much a part of Yarrow House as was 
Lady Yarrow herself. She was a constant source of 
interest to Scotia. Sometimes she fancied she must 
have known her when she was a child—a child too 
young to individualize the forms that made part of 
her small world. She was much younger than Lady 
Yarrow ; a very handsome woman nearing fifty years 
of age. Her features were grandly formed, and had 
an expression serious and placid. She was tall and 
slightly stout—a comely, comfortable presence : with¬ 
out dignity, without pride, and equally without self- 
consciousness. 

Although usually very calm, she was much moved 
by Lady Yarrow’s positive determination to send her 
to Rodney Law. But she did not let her feelings 
‘ run into motion ’ as nervous people do. She sat 
still, her hands were folded on her lap, her eyes were 
introspective ; her face was like a piece of dull water 
which reflected nothing. Yet she was feeling intensely. 
Nor were her feelings such as breed sorrow. They 
had in them great hopes, the craving of devoted yet 
unsatisfied affection, and a good portion of personal 
pride ; only Ann was a coward, and to ‘ let well alone ' 
seemed to her a sure and desirable good. She feared 
to risk all in order to gain all. Life, with its secret 
joy and its hidden spring of happiness, was so pleas¬ 
ant, so peaceful ! Why should she call change to 
herself and others. 

After a long reflection she rose slowly to her feet 
and began to undress. Anon, she lifted her Bible, and 
with conscious, purposeful deliberation - opened it. 
The portion her eyes selected did not alter her coun¬ 
tenance. She laid down the book with an air of “ I 
thought so,” and said decidedly : 


i6o 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“ ril no go a footstep. I’m no sent there yet. If 
my Lady canna wait for the opening of the door, she 
will hae to break it open wi’ her ain hand. That 
settles the matter i’ my mind.” 

And it did settle it. Ann knew nothing about 
worry. She never let the sorrow of yesterday pile 
itself into mountains high, while she lay tossing on 
' her hot pillow. She had the wisdom denied to this 
. nervous generation, who let the obstacle to be en¬ 
countered at some future time triumph over them in 
advance. The evil of the day was sufficient for the 
day, with Ann, and she fell asleep telling herself 
“ ma5^be something extronar” will happen. 

In the morning something extraordinary did hap¬ 
pen. As Lady Yarrow was dressing, Ann let her 
silver comb fall, and it stood straight up. “ You are 
going to hae a strange visitor. Lady Jemima,” she 
said, as she picked up the little diviner, and looked 
curiously at it. 

“ Ann, Ann ! in all things you are too superstitious. 
What can the comb know of a coming visitor ? ” 

“ Ken you wha is behind the comb ? Do we see a’ 
the hands that shape the day’s doings ? Men will hae 
to be wiser than what is written, ere they tell us why 
certain signs always go before certain events.” 

And though Lady Yarrow smiled at Ann’s super¬ 
stition, she was not insensible to its influence. “ It is 
such a lovely day,” she answered, “ I will put on my 
best velvet suit,” and so she attributed to the weather 
a motive whose real source lay deeper down and farther 
away. “I have just sent Scotia to dress for the car¬ 
riage, and we may make some calls—or we may do 
some shopping—or we may have a swift drive as far 
as Roslyn. Anything pleasant is likely, Ann.” 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER. i6l 

She took a last look at her still handsome figure in 
its handsome drapery, and then, as she l6ft the room, 
said, “ I will wait for Scotia in the breakfast parlor. 
She ought not to be long. A bonnie lassie is soon 
dressed. Tell her where to find me, Ann.” 

“ I forgot. Lady Jemima, to tell you something— 
there is a letter from Yarrow Bell. Jim Haddon says 
he hasna siller enough to care for the sheep through 
the winter.” 

She was half way down the stairs, but she turned 
with a laugh. All complain of the want of siller, 
Ann, but none of the want of sense. Send the man 
whatever he needs—and send Scotia to me.” 

As she spoke, the footman threw open the main 
entrance, and a young man in the uniform of the Royal 
Highlanders, walked, with a splendid air of youth and 
of owning all the world, through the wide hall into the 
parlor. She followed him as quickly as possible. He 
came to meet her with a letter in his hand—bare¬ 
headed, smiling, with just a touch of that patronage 
which youth is apt to assume toward age. 

“ I should know you without introduction ”; said 
Lady Yarrow, looking eagerly into the bright, pleasant 
face. “ You cannot be Captain James Forres, but you 
must be his son.” 

“ I am the son of Lord James Fraser Forres. He 
was Captain Forres when he knew you many years 
ago.” 

She looked at him with a strange yearning. This 
fine soldier might have been her son, but for her 
sister Dorinda. She bade him sit down, in a voice that 
trembled with emotion, and then read the letter, that 
had come years and years too late. 

As her eyes were bent upon it, Scotia entered the 


i62 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


room. Captain Forres had been looking a little 
bored, but instantly his heart was in his face. He 
glanced impatiently at Lady Yarrow, who suddenly 
became aware of the present and its demands. She 
took Scotia by the hand, and said : 

“ Captain Forres, I make you known to my niece, 
Miss Rodney. Scotia, help me to welcome Captain 
Forres, the son of a very dear old friend. Now you 
can improve your introduction, and let me read over 
again my letter.” 

Youth and beauty are quick friends, and what they 
find to say and how they say it is simply a wonder to 
slow and grave proprieties. Lady Yarrow took her 
letter upstairs and dropped a few tears on the kindly, 
sorrowful words. Then she locked them away, and 
touched her eyes with some reviving lotion, and went 
back to the parlor with a smile. Why should any one 
now suspect the longing pain in her heart. 

Scotia and the young captain were standing together 
at the window. Their voices were blending like music 
in merry laughter as she entered. Something in the 
passing crowd had touched their sense of the ridicu¬ 
lous, and the hearty laugh, with its rippling echo, 
woke strange memories in the old lady’s heart. 

For the young man was singularly like his father. 
Just so he had looked and laughed, just so he had smiled 
at her, years and years, and long years ago. She was 
then as young as Scotia, and she had more than 
Scotia’s beauty. For a moment the young people did 
not perceive her entrance, and she regarded them 
with a wistful speculation. They made a handsome 
picture. Scotia’s dark blue cloth pelisse, and bright 
flowing hair contrasting finely with the captain’s scarlet 
jacket, and dark green tartans, and jeweled dirk and 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER, 163 

pliilabeg. Both were tall, and Forres was dark as 
his famous namesake, Dhu James Forres. 

Lady Yarrow asked the young man to ride with 
them. She put aside all thoughts of calling, or shop¬ 
ping, and they drove merrily out to Roslyn—the 
carriage thrown open to the fresh air and sunshine ; 
the ladies in the back-seat, beautiful amid their many 
colored furs and wraps; young Forres facing them, 
grandly indifferent to wind or cold ; his fine figure 
bent toward his entertainers, his face lighted with 
pleasure, his tongue never failing him for the right 
word, his hands always ready to tuck back Lady Yar¬ 
row’s falling furs or fold anew some comfortable wrap. 

There was now no more talk of Rodney Law, and 
Ann wisely did not introduce the subject. Day by 
day, Lady Yarrow liked young Forres better. In a 
week she was calling him ‘ Jamie,’ as she had once 
called his father. She made dinner parties in his 
honor, and dancing parties for his pleasure. Ann 
could see that he was in love with Scotia, and that 
Lady Yarrow favored his love, and was determined 
no Dorinda should mar this marriage. She had 
once found pleasure in speculating about her niece and 
the minister, but she was now as one who had never 
heard the name of Angus Bruce. 

And Ann sighed as she reflected how often “ some¬ 
thing happens ” to alter plans that seemed sure and 
certain. The fact is, no event bears trifling with. 
‘‘ Almost and very-near have aye been great liars,” 
she said. “ I’m feared Angus will be forgotten, but 
what need to worry ? A man may woo where he will, 
but he must wed where his fate is.” 

It was now near the New Year, and there had been 
an intention that Scotia should return to Rodney 


164 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


House for the festival, spend a week there, and then 
accompany Lady Yarrow to London. The project 
had often been discussed before the arrival of Captain 
Forres ; after his arrival. Lady Yarrow avoided the 
subject; and when it was forced upon her attention 
she objected so positively to it that Scotia felt 
obliged to abandon the plan. 

I dislike to have my visitors break their favor in 
two,” she said a little crossly, “and I do not know 
what day precisely I may feel able to begin the jour¬ 
ney. It is possible we may start before Christmas 
and spend Christmas with friends in Yorkshire, and 
the New Year with the Cunliffes at Oxford ; and so, 
after a fortnight’s visiting, reach London about the 
7th of January.” 

“ Then I could meet you in London, Lady Jemima. 
There is a deal to be done here, if we go from Lon¬ 
don to Yarrow Bell. The furniture must be covered, 
and the plate sent to the bankers, and the costly 
hangings and such like, put where moth and rust 
willna corrupt them.” 

Between two women so fixed in their opinions, 
Scotia, as a guest, had very little power to gainsay 
plans, which were said to be made for her pleasure. 
She was much disappointed; she longed to see 
Angus ; and had hoped during her short visit to at 
least arrange matters so that he might write her a 
letter occasionally. Certainly, she respected that 
nicety of honor which had kept him silent until the 
Colonel’s permission to woo her had been obtained ; 
and yet, there were hours in which she wished he had 
dared a little for love’s sake. Indeed she had expected 
so much from him, and the sight of the always dis¬ 
appointing postman made her heart hot and her eyes 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER. 165 

twinkle with suppressed tears. Before the New Year, 
disappointment had become anger. It might be true 
that he could not love her much, if he loved not honor 
more ; but a letter of assurance would have been 
more satisfactory than silence ennobled by a senti¬ 
ment. 

So then, Lady Yarrow’s decided aversion to her 
return home in the middle of her visit did not dis¬ 
appoint Scotia as much as it would have done if 
Angus, instead of longing and watching for her ar¬ 
rival, had written just one word, Come ! ” She was 
further reconciled to Lady Yarrow’s intentions by a 
letter from Bertha, which announced a visit from 
Blair. 

‘‘ Blair is coming ! ’’ She wrote the words in capi¬ 
tals. “ The poor, dear fellow cannot endure our separa¬ 
tion any longer. He says he shall have a very positive 
talk with Father, and insist upon our marriage much 
earlier than the last of May. Father will of course 
object, but I think Blair will get his own way. Blair 
has such a firm will,” etc., etc. Five pages about Blair, 
and ten pages about Bertha, and half a page for the 
rest of the household. 

Considering everything, then, Scotia felt it would be 
best to fall in cheerfully with Lady Yarrow’s designs ; 
and shfe did so with all the pleasurable anticipations of 
which her happy nature was capable. This mood was 
all that Lady Yarrow required to arouse her to the 
point of movement. In less than a week they were on 
their way to Yorkshire, and Ann was alone in the 
darkened and almost deserted house. 

For some days she was busy about the business 
arrangements which she had indicated as necessary— 
packing away fine hangings and napery, sending 


i66 


W SJS J'EK TO ESAU. 


silver plate and rare books to the bankers, covering 
furniture and pictures, darkening rooms and arranging 
the household on the “ absent footing,” by dismissing 
some servants, and readjusting the work and wages of 
others. 

The work occupied her until Christmas, a festival 
she conscientiously refused to publicly acknowledge 
in any way. But yet, as she sat that Christmas night, 
alone in the shrouded parlor, with her tired hands 
dropped on her lap, and her eyes dropped upon the 
blazing coals, she could not avoid thoughts that wan¬ 
dered far back and far off, to dreamy shepherds on 
the hills of Palestine ; and happy angels singing above 
them. And being an intensely human woman, her 
heart stirred with warm, sweet sympathy for the young 
mother with her first-born son in her breast; and she 
gave one short cry of pain, and stood quickly up as 
if she were hurried or impatient. 

“ I must go ! I must go and see my ain dear lad ! 
I’ll no wait longer, for any woman born.” 

For a few minutes she stood thus, her strong face 
firmly set ; her hands clasped against her chin ; her 
figure, her air, the outward gaze of her eyes, all 
indicating a purpose as positive as it was sudden. 

She did not waste her feeling by expressing it. 
Lady Yarrow would have walked it away. Ann sat 
down again, and with prudent courage examined the 
thing which she had suddenly resolved to do. The 
greatest holdback was the dread of poverty. Ann had 
known what it was to have “ just enough to keep body 
and soul together ” ; and she audibly commented “ In 
sic a strait the soul doesna grow.” 

She had intended to leave Edinburgh for London 
on the following morning. She went to Fife—to 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER, 


167 


Rodney Law. The days were at their shortest, and 
it was quite dark when she reached the little village. 
“ Where is the manse ? ” she asked of the first child 
she met, and he answered, “ The wee gray house in 
the garden, ayont.” 

The wee gray house was not a hundred yards away. 
She gave the lad a penny and walked toward it. She 
was not even yet quite sure of what she would do or 
say. She had provided herself with an excuse for 
troubling the minister, if her heart failed her—or 
warned her—even in his presence. She thought she 
had prudence and self-control sufficient for all the 
visit might entail. 

The little gate clashed noisily in the still night, and 
a dog some way off asked what was the matter ? It 
disturbed no one in the manse. A much drearier 
home it would have been hard to imagine. The 
garden was bare and neglected. There was no light 
visible, except a pale glimmer in one of the front 
rooms. As she neared the door, she saw that it came 
from a candle, standing on a small round table. 

Angus sat at the table intently reading a pam¬ 
phlet—Dr. Chalmer’s last manifesto. She thought it 
no harm to look long at him—to note the cheerless 
fire burnt low and gray—the poor, plain furniture— 
and above all, the calm beautiful countenance of the 
man reading. She looked until her heart would no 
longer bear this silent, stolen survey ; and with a 
resolute hand she lifted the knocker, and let it fall 
once. 

Our lives are in a mist, and it is often in the dark 
that Destiny calls upon us. When Ann had knocked 
twice, Angus rose with a reluctant movement and 
went to the door. He had no presentiment of the 


i68 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


approach of any Fate ; even when he saw the middle- 
aged gentle woman standing at his door, his soul was 
not in the least degree prescient. Perhaps it was 
absent ; for are we not all conscious of days or hours 
when we are “ not all there ”—when we simply use 
our intellect, but are at a loss for some power that is 
subtler than intellect ? Angus looked at his visitor 
interrogatively, as he said : 

“ I am the minister. Do you wish to see me ? ” 

She answered “ Yes,” and followed him into the 
parlor. 

There for a moment they stood looking at each 
other, Ann’s heart filling, and filling, until it forced 
her to speak : 

“ Sir ! Sir ! I hae come to tell you something ! 
I hae kent you a’ your life.” 

“ Mistress, sit down, sit down. Take off your cloak 
and your bonnet, and I will have the fire built, and 
a cup of tea made. Are you tired ? Have you come 
far ? Are you hungry ?” 

In all these questionings he was conscious of that 
peculiar reluctance to face finally some decision long 
delayed ; wished, and yet put off ; held in abeyance, 
not unwillingly, because certainty may perchance 
destroy and not fulfill the illusions of uncertainty. 
Ann had a similar reluctance to hurry, though arising 
from different causes. She sat quiet while Bruce 
called Grizel, and had the fire replenished and his tea 
tray brought in. He made his visitor the first cup 
and said : 

“ Drink it, and then tell me all. I have been ex¬ 
pecting to hear what I do not know ever since I 
received a certain letter.” 

“ The letter anent the Free Kirk ? ” 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER, 


169 


“ The same. I know not what to call you,” He 
smiled pleasantly at her over his own tea cup, and she 
answered : 

“ ril gie you a name ere lang—that is, if you want 
it. Maybe though, you dinna care for what is past 
I and gane ; some folk dinna.” 

f “ I have forgotten very little of what is past, and 
• you will be my friend if you make all clear to me.” 

“ What do you remember best of a’ ? ” 

“ A great house in a garden. There were many 
bee-skeps in the garden, and I was punished one 
sunny afternoon for going near them. I think that is 
my first clear memory.” 

“ The house is the Bell. It was I—I mysel’ wha 
gied you your punishment for meddling wi’ the bees. 
You hae forgot the kisses that made up for the 
palmies, I see.” 

She looked at him with clear shining eyes full of 
love, and Angus steadily regarded her as he con¬ 
tinued : 

“I remember two women—one used to nurse me 
on her knees, and carry me in her arms, and kiss me 
in the dark, and kiss me in the morning, and I think 
—I think-” 

“ Nay, you may be sure of it, my ain dear lad ! It 
was I that nursed you on my knees, and carried you 
in these arms ! And I hae carried you in my heart 
o’ hearts, so many years, and such lang years ! Oh, 
Angus ! Angus ! Oh my dear, dear Angus ! Noo, 
canna you tell—what to call me ? ” 

He went to the weeping woman and took her hand's, 
and stooped his face till it touched her face, and said 
upon her lips : 

“ Mother ! You are my mother ! ” 



170 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Then the unspoken and unsatisfied love of twenty 
years found speech and action. She sobbed out in his 
arms many a tender word long unfamiliar to her 
tongue ; she gave her heart its fill of mother joy. 
She had a few moments of divine unreasonableness, in 
W'hich her son was her babe again. 

Angus was profoundly touched by her emotion. 
Loving is in many respects a habit, and Angus had 
the habit of mother-love to learn ; but he did not suf¬ 
fer his mother to know this. He brought her back to 
the straight lines of life by the homely duties of the 
tea-table. And while she dried her eyes and com¬ 
posed her face, he looked with a sad curiosity at her. 
In spite of her rich dress, he perceived she was of 
lowly birth. Indeed, he knew the fisherwomen of that 
coast so well that he had no hesitation in placing her 
among them. Then he understood how deeply he 
had cherished the hope that his unknown parentage 
was obscure, because of its nobility. 

Since he had loved Scotia, he had clung to this 
idea, and ransacked his memory for proofs of it. 
Naturally, he believed that Colonel Rodney would 
be influenced by the conditions of his birth. For 
though nominally and in society his office made him 
the peer of any noble, there were deeper considera¬ 
tions when it came to a question of marriage and 
relationships. Perhaps his mother divined something 
of his disappointment ; she looked into his face, and 
setting her cup steadily down, said : 

I was only a poor girl, Angus—a poor fisher girl.’* 
“'You are my own mother.” 

“ And your fayther-” 

“Tell me of my father.” 

“ Your fayther was the bravest fisherman that ever 



BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER. 171 

sailed a boat out of Largo Bay. Listen, and I will 
tell you how he died ! One stormy afternoon we heard 
the noise o’ men crying on a wrecked ship. It is a 
fearfu’ noise, Angus, the noise o’ men crying out at 
sea ; and your fayther went down to the beach, and I 
went wi’ him, and you were in my arms, folded tight 
in my plaidie. And there was a ship on her beam- 
ends, and the men clinging to her spars and masts, 
and your fayther said justtwa words—‘ Wha’s ready ?' 
and his brother Steve and his mate Torry stepped 
out, and stood beside him—and nae others. I 
coLildna speak a word ‘yes’ or ‘ no,’ but I held you 
close, and looket in his face, and he pulled the plaidie 
awa’ in a hurry, and kissed you twa or three times ; 
and then mysel’—and the next moment he was wi’ 
the men, pushing the boat to the water edge. They 
saved twa boat loads, and they went down wi’ the 
third. I was on the beach a’ night lang ; but it wasna 
till the morning tide the bodies came hame. Your 
fayther and your Uncle Steve lie thegither in Largo 
kirk-yard. They did their duty, and they died in 
the doing o’ it. What mair can be said ? ” 

They were brave, good men. 1 thank God for 
such kin ! ” 

“ And you are na shamed o’ coming out o’ the fish¬ 
ing boats !—you, a placed minister ?” 

“ Christ called Peter and our ain blessed Saint 
Andrew when they were casting their nets into the sea. 
God make me worthy to follow after such men ! God 
make me worthy of the father you gave me ! my dear 
mother.” 

He said the word slowly, as if tasting its new, sweet 
flavor ; and, as he did so, stooped forward and took 
her hand. “Nowyou must tell me,who has been our 


172 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


friend ; who has cared for you, and educated me, and 
given me my portion among God’s servants.” 

One day I was in Edinburgh selling herring, and 
a braw lady stopped me, and said,—‘ Let me look at 
your bairn, woman.’ And she took your wee face 
atween her gloved hands and kissed it ; and when I 
wouldna tak’ siller from her—for I was selling fish 
and didna need awmous—she said, ^Come so and so, 
on the morn, and I will maybe be your friend.’ 

“ So it happened that I pleased her, and she was a 
masterfu’ woman, and she made me leave a’ and stay 
wi’ her. And she was that fond o’ you that I had 
many a jealous heartache for it ; but I kent it was for 
your good, and I tholed her claim then, and hae done, 
ever since.” 

“ Are you still her servant ? ” 

“Servant? Na, na! Fisher lasses dinna serve 
mortal woman for just siller. I am her helper, her 
housekeeper, her friend, her sister. We hae had nae 
secrets from each ither for more than twenty years. 
Baith thegither we hae watched o’er you. Baith the- 
gither we hae heard you in the school-room and the 
kirk. You are ‘ our son.’ ” 

“And her name, mother? 

“ I canna tell you that, just yet.” 

He did not press the question, but rather tried to 
persuade her to remain over Sabbath with him. After 
some hesitation the request was granted, and then the 
conversation was renewed and drifted to the kirk con¬ 
troversy, and Angus told his mother of the letter he 
had received ; but got no further information regard¬ 
ing its stipulations. 

In the morning the news of the minister’s visitor 
spread quickly over the village, and anon reached 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER. 


173 


Rodney House ; and the Colonel and Mrs. Rodney 
sent a polite invitation for Mrs. Bruce and the minister 
to dine with them. Angus insisted on its acceptance, 
and indeed there was no reason for him to feel any¬ 
thing but pride in the quiet, handsome, richly dressed 
woman whom he presented to the Rodneys as his 
mother. 

Blair and Bertha were absorbed in their own affairs. 
Blair gave her but slight attention ; Bertha watched 
her furtively as she listened to Blair. She knew in¬ 
tuitively that she was a woman of the people, born in 
poverty ; her speech betrayed her; and where and 
how, then, had she acquired her repose, her fine man¬ 
ner, and her sense about dress? She speculated on 
and watched their visitor all evening. And she 
wondered if such a stylish young man as Angus Bruce 
was not ashamed of her?" 

Angus was not in the least ashamed of her. He 
took her on his arm to kirk, he gave her into the 
charge of his chief elder saying, “ This is my mother, 
Mr. Boyd. Put her in the minister’s pew." And his 
love grew apace. It had always been in his heart, all 
it needed was the visible object to cling to. It sprang 
into life with her kiss, and her smile, and her tender 
story of his father’s death. When she left him on 
Monday morning he was as proud of her as if she had 
been a duchess. He was as sorry to lose her, as if 
they had lived all their lives together. He felt himself 
to be a far richer and happier man, and was as light¬ 
hearted as if he had come into a great fortune. What, 
now, was the loss of that unseen and unknown friend ? 
He had found a mother in her place. 

And while he thus mused, Bertha was writing to her 
sister a letter which was greatly occupied with the 


174 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


minister. '' Only think ! Mr. Bruce brought his 
mother to Rodney House last Saturday night—a very 
vulgar old woman, who speaks broad Scots, when she 
does speak ; and who, I am sure, he must feel to be 
a great drawback. Fancy such a mother-in-law ! 
Thank heaven ! Blair has no mother.” 

“ What news has come in your sister’s letter 
Scotia?” asked Lady Yarrow. “ I see you draw your 
brows together, and shrug your shoulders very ex¬ 
pressively.” 

“ Bertha says, our minister brought his mother with 
him to Rodney House last Saturday night, and that 
she is a vulgar old woman, who speaks broad Scots.” 

They were at the Cunliffe’s, in Oxford, when Scotia 
made this remark. It affected Lady Yarrow beyond 
all seeming reason. She flew into a passion with 
Bertha. “ Is the girl so ignorant as not to know that 
some of our best people choose to speak their own 
dialect ? I speak broad Scots mysel’ when I am in a 
passion ; and I wad gie her a mouthfu’ or twa o’ it 
wi’ right gude will, if she was here the noo. I wad 
that, the scornfu’ cutty ! ” 

All day afterward Lady Yarrow was very unreasona¬ 
ble. She walked about the room muttering to herself 
wonders and queries, in which Ann had the greatest 
share ; and that night she said : 

“Scotia, I am tired of these smooth-lipped, trig, 
smug, well-appointed priests ; with their long black 
coats falling over their slender hams even to their 
ankles ; and their dainty neck-ties and simpering 
lisp. Let us get away from these Southern Square- 
caps. 

“ They are always politely sneering abour universi- 
ties, and asking civil questions about Scotland ; as if 


BRUCE FINDS A MOTHER. I 75 

we were foreigners ; and yet most of them have been 
in Scotland. 

“They know as much about Scotland as, 

A fly that’s bred 

In a grocer’s sugar-cask, may comprehend 
Of honeyed heather and of mountain bees. 

We will awa’ to London. Jamie may meet us there. 
And X want to see Ann. Yes, I want very much to 
see Ann. I wonder whatever the woman has been up 
to ! ” 

“ Up to?” 

“Yes—what she has been doing. I have heard lit¬ 
tle from her. Mistress Ann and I will have to say a 
great deal to each other.” 

“ I dare say Ann has had a very stupid time.” 

“ I dare be bound that she has had a very delight¬ 
ful time—a thoroughly satisfactory time, to herself. 
And I want to know all about it.” 


XI. 


THE minister’s TROUBLES. 

** Even you yourself to your own breast shall tell 
Your crime, and your own conscience be your hell.” 

— Dryden^ 

** My ugly guilt flies in my conscious face, 

And I am vanquished, slain by bosom-war.” 

— Dryden, 

** Doubt’s the worst tyrant of a generous mind, 

The coward’s ill, who dares not meet his fate. 

And ever-doubting to be fortunate. 

Falls to the wretchedness his fearc create.” 


— Otway. 



HEY reached London on the following day in 


the afternoon, but it was foggy and dark, and in 
the main thoroughfares gas was dimly burning. The 
toiling, moiling multitudes, the indefinite forms of 
great wagons and horses, the terrible noises and shrill 
human cries made a fearsome and depressing phan¬ 
tasma through which Lady Yarrow hurried the hired 
vehicle with promises of extra money. 

She was too much under the influence of the dis¬ 
couraging situation to talk, and Scotia looked with 
wonder and fear into the gloomy, crowded streets. 
Ere long, however, they came to more open spaces, 
to squares and parks surrounded by large houses, 
and before one of the most remarkable the vehicle 
stopped. The house was well lighted, and had an air of 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 


177 


welcome and happiness, and a footman in the Yarrow 
plum-color-and-silver livery stood within the door, 
looking vacantly at their approach. He supposed 
the arrivals in a common cab to be new servants, and 
did not trouble himself, until Lady Yarrow spoke in 
that tone of authority all servants recognize. 

“Ann must be here, and she is doubtless expecting 
us, or she would not have wasted fire and candle¬ 
light ; " and with the words, Ann, followed by a young 
woman, appeared. The young woman was Scotia’s 
maid, and she took possession of the young lady, and 
at once conducted her to the suite arranged for her 
use. Ann said little, but there was a look between 
her and Lady Yarrow which said everything. 

They went to Lady Yarrow’s room hand in hand, 
and when they entered the fine chamber with its crim¬ 
son silk hangings and upholstery, catching richer 
lights and deeper shadows from the glowing fire 
and the mellow radiance of wax candles. Lady Yarrow 
threw herself into a large chair, and sighed out with 
infinite pleasure : 

“ Oh, Ann ! how good it is to get home again ! 
And how good it is to see you ! You have engaged 
a maid for Scotia I see—a good English girl, I 
hope ? ” 

“ I was very careful, and she understands her busi¬ 
ness well.” 

“ That is right. A good maid is now necessary. 
Ann, what have you been doing ever since I saw 
you ? ” 

Ann was making a cup of tea for Lady Yarrow, and 
as she placed the tray at her side, she answered, “ I 
have been as busy as a bee ever since we parted. I 
have left everything in perfect order at Yarrow House- 


178 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


If we dinna go back to Edinburgh for twa years or mair, 
naething will tak’ hurt. The siller and a’ the rare 
china and auld books are at the banker’s. And after 
I cam’ to London, there was plenty to do here, and 
all isna done yet by a great deal. You canna go into 
the market place and hire servants, as you go into a 
mercer’s and call for the silk you want.” 

Then Ann went on explaining the necessities which 
had been attended to, and others which were still to 
be supplied ; and Lady Yarrow listened without any 
interest. Her heart was sick with anxiety. She 
wanted Ann to tell her voluntarily about her visit to 
Rodney Law ; every moment that the information 
was delayed she felt to be a wrong. And quite as a 
matter of course, without any preliminary, Ann at 
last said, “and between Yarrow House, and this 
house, I went to Rodney Law, and spent twa days 
wi’ our son.” 

“ Ann Bruce ! ” 

“Just sae. You bade me go, and I thought it wad 
please you best, to hae the message delivered when 
yoLT didna hae to be feeling and wondering anent it; 
and to tell the even down truth, the wish cam’ o’er 
me on Christmas night sae Strang, that there wasna 
ony choice in the matter. I had to gae—or bide at 
hame wi’ an aching heart. Sae I went. Dinna look 
sae dour and ill-pleased. I made nae mention o’ your 
name.” 

“ You ought to have made mention of it, Ann. Now 
the lad will be thinking of you by yourself, and never 
a thought for me.” 

“ He is my lad.” 

“ He is mine, as much as yours.” 

“ I gave him life.” 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 


179 


“Tut, tut! What is life worth without learning 
and breeding, without position and influence, friends 
and respect, even money and good clothing ? I might 
give you silk for a dress, Ann, but if you have no 
needle and no thread, nor any way to make it, and 
must just wrap it round you as best you can, the silk 
would be little worth. The woman who helped you 
fashion it into a rich and becoming garment, would be 
your greatest benefactor, eh ? ” 

“ There is nae mother like the mother that bore us. 
I gave the lad life and love. It was all I had to give." 

“ I gave him love, and everything that has made 
life lovely, and honorable, and pleasant. He is as 
much mine as yours. What do you think of him ? " 

“ He is my ain son, but I think he is the finest man 
that I, or any other, e’er put eyes on." 

“ What did he say when he found out you were his 
mother ? ” 

“ He took me at once into his heart, as a son should. 
I told him the whole truth—that I was a poor fisher 
girl, and his fayther a fisherman ; and that I was sell¬ 
ing herring in Edinburgh streets, when you met me. 
I told him about his fayther’s and uncle’s death, and 
he said he thanked God for such kindred ! And when 
I minded him, that he had come oot o’ the fishing 
boats to the pulpit, he minded me—that the apostle 
Peter and Scotland’s ain Saint Andrew were casting 
their nets in the sea, when the Lord Christ gied them 
their call. And oh ! he was that proud o’ me, and 
that fond o’ me. I must thank God for thae twa 
days, aboon a’ the days o’ my life !" 

“ Did he never ask after me ? Did he say nothing 
about me ?" 

“ He said a great deal about you. And he told me 


i8o 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


about the letter you sent him through Mr. Noble. 
He was sair troubled because he couldna think as you 
thought. And he sought your name, but I didna tell 
him—wanting your authority for it." 

“ What kind of a home has he ?" 

He has nae hame—worth the name o' hame. The 
manse is cauld and bare o’ comfort, and there’s nae 
oeauty in it, nor yet near it. I wonder at thae Rod¬ 
neys ■ letting their minister bide in such want o’ all 
pleasant things.’’ 

Did you see the Rodneys ? ’’ 

“ ‘ Deed did 1. They are na much to see, except 
the Colonel, and the lassie that is wi’ you. Colonel 
Rodney is a gentleman, as good and kind as a man 
can be, wha is ta’en up wi’ his ain ailments ; ane o’ 
those men, wha talks a deal o his ancestors ; and 
whose Bible and Book o’ Heraldry lie close the- 
gither.’’ 

What of my sister Dorinda ? ’’ 

“ Mrs. Rodney is a lady-like body, thinking a deal o’ 
her youngest daughter, and her is-to-be son-in-law—a 
muckle man ; but muckleness isna manliness. I set 
little store by him, and little by the lassie either. 
They scarce spoke to me. They thought the warid 
was made for them.’’ 

“ It is a wonder they did not ask you where you 
lived, and who by, and such like questions.' 

“ If they had, I could hae told them I was from 
Edinburgh. But little they cared whar I came from, 
or wha I was. They were ceevil enough for the min¬ 
ister’s sake, but I dinna think they would ware ten 
minutes talk on me. I didna interest them. I was 
just a plain, common body.’’ 

- “ You are the handsomest, most uncommon woman 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. i8l 

I ever saw, Ann. Has my sister Dorinda any of 
her beauty left ? ” 

“ I never should hae thought that beauty—mair or 
less o’ it—was in her keeping. She is now vera thin, 
and yellow as a duck’s foot. And she has a fretfu’ 
look, that keeps you in constant mind o’ David’s 
advice—to keep weel the door o’ your lips.” 

“ She was once very lovely, Ann. She had large, 
soft, brown eyes, and a round, innocent, baby face ; 
and nice little ways that every one approved.” 

“ She wad look like her youngest daughter, then. 
Your picture will do for the bride-elect, vera prop¬ 
erly.” 

“Oh ! Bertha is of that kind, is she ? Let her stay 
away from me, then. I should think Dorinda was 
tugging at my life-strings again. Ann, we are going 
to have a very grand season. We must see that 
Scotia puts her right foot first, when she enters society. 
I think Captain Forres will be able to come for a short 
visit, and Scotia could make no match that would 
please me better. Why do you not speak, Ann ?” 

“ My speech might not please you. Speaking comes 
by nature, silence by understanding. I have heard 
say-” 

“ ‘ I have heard say ’ is half-a-lie, Ann.” 

“ Vera well, and vera true. But if people dinna 
keep goats, and yet sell kids, can you help wondering 
whar they get them ? ” 

“ What do you mean, Ann ? ” 

“If Captain Forres has nae great income, and yet 
has a vera great outgo, can you help wondering whar 
he gets the siller?” 

“Ann, if you have heard aught against the man, 
remember that a little truth makes the whole black 



i 82 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


lie pass. Captain Forres has, doubtless, faults, and 
people speak of every one’s faults but their own.” 

“The world-” 

“ Even if we stand by the world’s verdict, Ann, it 
is better for us to know a man for a sinner, than for 
God to know him for a hypocrite. But we need not 
differ on what is not here, Ann ; ”—then with a sigh— 
“ and uncertainty walks on both sides of us.” 

The next two weeks were two very busy weeks to 
Scotia. She was with modistes^ and she was taking 
lessons in court ceremonies, and in the social laws 
which governed the society she was to enter. And it 
cannot be denied that she felt a great interest in these 
things. Her whole existence had been altered. That 
open-air intercourse with nature, which had been her 
fundamental pleasure, had been totally withdrawn. 
She saw nature now only in city parks ; she came no 
closer to her than the carriage drive permitted. And 
yet when she passed under some spreading tree, and 
the bare branches stretched themselves over her head, 
she felt a Wxirm glow at her heart, and would have 
liked to draw one down, and put it to her lips. After 
all, trees have a strange link with humanity ; there are 
few who do not love them—who are not born foresters. 

Every day as the season advanced the whirl of so- 
called pleasure grew more fast and furious. Scotia 
was presented, and found the ceremony a much less 
important affair than she had supposed. 

She went to dinners and dances, to operas, and to 
Christie’s. All the fashionable resorts of the time 
were familiar to her. And though her beauty did not 
make the reputation Lady Yarrow had confidently 
expected, yet she had many admirers ; and one or two 
lovers very much in earnest. 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 183 

Her triumphs were all chronicled in the Court 
Jour7ial^ and they lost nothing through its flattering 
medium. Miss Rodney, it declared, was the belle 
of her exclusive circle. Her beauty was wonderful. 
Her grace beyond description. Her toilets, marvels. 
Her adorers, legion. And Lady Yarrow took pains 
to see the Journal found it’s way to Rodney House. 
It was not a messenger of pure peace and good-will. 
Bertha hated to see it on the table, and yet she read 
every word in it, especially those relating to her 
sister’s gay life and social victories. 

She also took care that Angus Bruce knew the story 
to it’s last tittle. It gave her a secretly malicious pleas¬ 
ure to read it aloud to him. Of course Scotia was 
credited with lovers beyond all reason or probability ; 
and the rumors of her engagement to Mr. Percy 
Vaux, or to the young Earl of Carrickfergus, toward 
the end of January, were nearly constant items of 
available torture. Many remarks in Scotia’s letters 
could be separated from their contexts, and made ap¬ 
parently incontestable proofs ; and Bertha was not 
above such disloyal transmuting. 

She was not in love with Angus Bruce—no ! she 
was sure that she was in love with Blair Rodney ; but 
this dog-in-the-manger greed of Bruce’s admiration, 
was certainly, in Blair’s absence, the most controlling 
motive of her life. And Angus suffered all and far 
more than she expected him to suffer. Indeed, his 
suffering would have been intolerable but for the new 
comfort of his mother’s letters. He had been greatly 
disappointed in not seeing Scotia at the New Year. 
She had promised to come home for a few days at 
New Year, and she had not done so. He told himself 
that even then she had begun to forget. The doubt 


184 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


kept him silent, and every day the doubt deepened. 
How could she remember him, among so many claim¬ 
ants for favor, and in the midst of a life so far apart 
from his ? 

One afternoon past the middle of February he was 
returning from Rodney House. He had gone there 
voluntarily to be tortured by Bertha. He knew that 
the Journal had arrived, and probably letters also, 
and that he would hear words sharper than swords, 
and yet he went to hear them. 

“ The Journal says that Scotia has a new pretender 
to her favor. Captain Forres, the son and heir of Lord 
Forres ; but that is fiddler’s news, Mr. Bruce. We 
all knew that, before Scotia left Edinburgh. He has 
simply followed her to London. I should think Sco¬ 
tia would decide on some one, and give other poor 
girls a chance. The season has been run for Scotia 
Rodney. Dear me ! I wish I had such chances ! I 
should make a little change in my destiny,” and she 
sighed like a maiden driven astray by destiny. 

“ Your fate is chosen. Miss Bertha.” 

“ Chosen for me, you mean ? I really had no 
choice. I never was in society. And perhaps if I 
had been a girl without ancestors, I might have chosen 
more to my liking,” and she looked at Angus with a 
sweet treachery that had an irresistible compliment in it. 

He felt the blood rush to his heart and face, and he 
rose to go away ; a consequence which greatly pleased 
Bertha. She laughed softly as she thought, “He felt 
what I implied. You might win a saint if you only 
pretended to be in love with him. I dare vow now, 
Angus Bruce thinks I am in love with him, and that I 
regret my engagement to Blair. Perhaps I am—per¬ 
haps I do. Who knows ? ” 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 185 

She put her little feet upon the fender and lifted 
her ever-ready bit of embroidery, and set her stitches 
to an accompaniment of sly smiles, and almost imper¬ 
ceptible nods. She was giving assent to her thoughts, 
whatever they were. 

Angus walked home in a very miserable mood. He 
began to think seriously of resigning his charge, and 
then in the midst of such a resolution, suddenly drew 
a circle round his thoughts, and adjured them to a 
nobler will. “ Rather he would stay and combat what¬ 
ever disappointment or temptation came to him.” 
Bertha had an oblique, evasive soul that slipped away 
from any firm interrogatory. He would bring her to 
fair question and straight answer for the future, and 
not permit her to drop ill-omened words into his life, 
as she might drop ink into fair water. 

As for Scotia, he could not bear to accuse her of 
disloyalty to him and to her own heart ; and yet he 
did not dare to fully exonerate her in the face of such 
contrary evidence. He hoped—but he knew that 
hopes are like bits of stained glass, which let nothing 
be seen in a true light through them. He could not 
trust. Ah me ! The worst wounds are those our 
own hands inflict. He was chilled by the wet ground 
and the dripping, bare branches, and the creeping fog, 
and he felt sorrow stealing over his life like the fog. 
It benumbed him. He longed rather for one pang of 
conflict. 

As he opened the garden gate the postman gave him 
a letter. It was a little bulky, as if it contained some¬ 
thing besides paper. There was a kind of luxury in 
postponing his curiosity, until he had removed his 
coat, and stirred up the fire, and made himself com¬ 
fortable. He opened it with simple curiosity, and it 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


186 

filled him with a thousand charming hopes. Yet there 
was not one written word, only a few flowers arranged 
with evident purpose and method. The paper had 
the Rodney crest on it; the postmark was London. 
It was from Scotia. He had no doubt of it. Her 
fingers had arranged the leaves and flowers. Had she 
purposely chosen the paper, or was it an oversight ? 
Then he remembered that valentine day had just passed. 
Bertha had showed him one, sent to her from Blair ; 
an elaborate arrangement of lace, paper, ribbons, and 
painted flowers. He had rather disapproved of valen¬ 
tines then ; had said something about their pagan ori¬ 
gin, etc., etc. 

Now he had a valentine also. And from Scotia! 
Love can find so many good excuses <^hat he felt a 
strange tenderness for the foolish little pagan messen¬ 
ger. He wondered what the flowers meant. He 
knew they had a language, but among all his books 
there was not one which could define a speech so 
sweet, so vague, so occult. No youth in his teens was 
ever more excited over his first love-letter, than 
Angus Bruce was over those few, faded eloquent 
flowers. Oh, if he only knew their language. 

The craving for this knowledge became so intense 
that he resolved to gratify it. It might prove to be a 
message with certainty sufficient to put an end to his 
miserable suspense. After the next Sabbath Day he 
went to Edinburgh. He had other duties and interests 
there, but to buy a book about flowers was the business 
that interested him most of all. So to prove to him¬ 
self that his will had the mastery, he did not enter a 
book store until he had attended to every other claim 
upon his time and sympathy. At last, in St. Mary’s 
Street, he saw a shop he thought likely to deal in 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 


187 


such literature. The windows were yet adorned 
with valentines, and there were volumes of poetry dis¬ 
played there—Burns, Scott, Wordsworth, and Byron. 

A grave old man stood behind the counter. Bruce 
examined first a copy of Burns’s poems, and then with 
shame and hesitation he asked for the book he wished. 
He fancied the old man looked astonished and disap¬ 
proving, and he said, “ Choose such a copy for me as 
you think likely to please a young lady. I know 
nothing of such books.” 

The bookseller gave him a thin, gay-looking volume, 
and he paid half-a-crown and went out of the shop. 
He scarcely knew how or where. His conscience was 
lashing him with a three-fold whip. He had lied. 
He had made a false accusation. He had regarded 
his own honor and gratification before the honor of 
God and his ministry. What a contemptible creature 
he was ! It took him but a few moments to see 
this, and he said in a dour, angry voice, “ Go back, 
Angus Bruce, and do the thing you ought to do.” 

He went back. His firm, intentional steps rung out 
clear on the stone pavement. When he re-entered 
the shop, the man was still standing where he had 
left him. The books which he had been examining, 
were still on the corner—so swift had been his con¬ 
science, so swift his own answer to its accu.sation. 

“ Sir ! ” he said, “take back your book. It was for 
no young lady. It was for my own satisfaction I 
bought it. I lied to you.” 

The bookseller looked at him with a kindling face. 
He laid the piece of money down before Angus, and 
as he took the returned book, said “ I thank God 
that I hae lived long enough to see a young man wi’ 
sae tender a conscience ! Tak’ your siller, sir.” 


i88 


A SISTER TO ESA Cl. 


Bruce was at the door. He turned and shook his 
head. “ Give it to the first beggar lad you see. I will 
have neither the book nor the price of it.” 

This incident affected Angus in a manner which 
our easy-principled and self-excusing generation can 
hardly estimate. For some days his remorseful sor¬ 
row drove him into solitude. He compelled himself 
to put the poor faded flowers out of his sight and 
touch. He would not permit his thoughts one 
moment with the woman for whose dear sake he had 
offended. He was terribly harsh and strict with him¬ 
self in every point which touched his earthly delight, 
or even his earthly comfort. And this severity was 
the natural result of his temperament and education ; 
for in Angus Bruce the spiritual life was the supreme 
life, constantly welling up from the inscrutable depths 
in which his being had its root. Yea, in all fine 
natures is not this the rule, evermore inward to out¬ 
ward ? 

The first result of this spiritual tenderness was, 
alas ! one of exaggerated jealousy for the honor of 
everything connected with his office. One night he 
was urged, with all a mother’s passionate fear and 
love for her dying child, to “ hasten ! hasten ! ” to its 
cradle. He looked at the signature to the note, put 
his hand to his brow, and with a sorrowful face shook 
his head. But the bearer of it, being also urgent with 
him, he permitted himself to be driven at a rapid pace 
to a house three miles away. A beautiful young 
woman, in a state of distraction, came to the door to 
meet him. She did not permit him to remove his 
coat, she cried only, “ Make haste ! You may be too 
late ! All is ready ! Come, sir. Come, for God's 
sake ! ” 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 189 

Her impetuosity carried him with her into a richly 
decorated parlor, showing all the sad disorder which 
accompanies sudden and fatal sickness. In a cradle 
lay a dying child. Many servants and two physicians 
stood around. The father knelt by the little bed, and 
had the babe on his arm. He was a man of wealth, 
of great political power ; a man also of dissolute 
character, who had despised the holy tie of marriage, 
and who scoffed at all church ordinances. 

He looked angrily at Bruce, and pointed to the 
Bible and the bowl of clean water. Bruce stood 
silent and motionless. The mother put the bowl into 
his hand. He replaced it on the table, and turning 
to the sinning parents, said sternly : 

‘‘The grace of baptism is only for the children of 
grace.” 

Then the mother threw herself, in a passion of grief, 
at his feet, crying : 

“ I will sin no more ! I will sin no more ! For 
Christ’s sake, baptize my child ! ” 

The weeping woman, the eager promise, went to his 
heart. He lifted her from the ground, and, looking at 
the father, said : 

“ Glenstrey, you hear this woman’s promise ? Stand 
up and join her in it. Give me your word to live 
righteously, to obey God’s word and honor His ordi¬ 
nances, then I will marry you and baptize your child. 
Great is his mercy ! I believe he will not reject the 
little one offered with repenting hearts.” 

He spoke as one having authority, but Glenstrey 
answered angrily: “Sir I sent for you to baptize a 
dying child, not to make a marriage. Lavinia, what 
folly to ask pity of a priest ? The boy is dead, gone 
to the pity of God—if there be a God. Doctor, give 


190 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


me your arm,” and leaning heavily on it he went out 
of the room, dazed and distracted with grief, but 
heart-hardened by his calamity. 

The mother stepped hastily to the cradle, she lifted 
the dead child in her arms, and turned to Bruce, hold¬ 
ing out the fair piece of clay to him : 

“You have worse than slain him!” she cried in an 
anguish. “You have worse than slain him ! Recreant 
priest of a cruel God, why did you never come here 
and warn me? I have lived in your sight and your 
hearing, and you believed me to be bringing babes 
into the world for death and hell! How durst you 
eat your food, and lie down and sleep, knowing 
my boy—my little boy was in such danger? If you 
had seen him in peril of fire, or water, or pest, you 
would have tried to save him, but to save him from 
eternal death you would not say a word or move a 
finger. It is your fault! It is your fault ! You never 
once warned me ! I will so accuse you at the bar 
of the Eternal God ! ” 

Her splendid beauty was inflamed with the passion 
of a pythoness. Her words were like coals of fire. 
She held out the still, cold babe toward him as a visi¬ 
ble accuser. But her reproaches moved Bruce no 
more than the eternal rock is moved by the billow- 
bluster at its foot. Certainly, his eyes shone with pity 
for her agony, but he answered her thus: 

“ Lavinia Tenant, your father warned you. Your 
mother warned you. The pious, humble men and 
women, with whom you spent so many years, warned 
you. You knew the truth from your childhood. Every 
Sabbath day you have been warned, and called by the 
kirk bell. I'he ostracism of your neighbors has con- 
linually told you of your sin. I know that God has 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 191 

warned you every day, and I doubt not in dreams of 
the night. It is your own fault, your own fault, 
Lavinia Tenant. Yet listen to me. If even now you 
turn to the Lord with all your heart, your sins, though 
they be as scarlet, shall be white as snow.” 

“Will that save my little child ? Go away, sir ! Go 
from my presence ! ” 

She had begun to walk up and down the room with 
the dead boy clasped to her breast. She was uttering 
over him inarticulate cries of agony and remorse. A 
physician who was still present gave some instructions 
to the terrified servants, and then taking Bruce’s arm, 
said, “ We can neither of us do any more good here 
now, minister. Let us go.” 

This circumstance troubled Bruce to the very bot¬ 
tom of his heart and soul. He felt that he had no 
right—even had he been alone—to allow the despair¬ 
ing mother to throw her sin on to his shoulders; but 
in addition to this cause, others also had been present, 
whose all future might be influenced by that sad scene. 
She had refused the Sin-bearer; then she must carry 
the burden herself. For many good reasons he had 
felt constrained to let her feel this; and yet—and yet, 
there was a strong mingling of pity in all his reflections 
on the subject—perhaps, also, a vague feeling of re¬ 
proach. Perhaps he ought to have personally warned 
her. The thought tortured him ; he felt, as he had 
never done before, the terrible responsibility which he 
had assumed with his office. 

The Colonel and Mrs. Rodney wondered at his long 
absence from their house, and they wondered still 
more when he partly explained it by an allusion to the 
spiritual stress and anxiety arising from the death of 
the child. The Colonel was reading Antigone, and 


192 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


had his finger between the leaves of the famous 
chorus. He felt little interest in the subject. 

“Glenstrey ought to have considered the possibility. 
It is not your fault, Mr, Bruce,” he said. “You are 
not the Sin-bearer of the community. After all, this 
Calvinistic creed holds the conscience in a constant 
bit and bridle. In reading my favorite Greek 
authors, I am continually struck with the gentle and 
beautiful conceptions they had of the divinity.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Bruce, “‘the gods that live at 
ease’ are very different beings from the Eloah ! the 
‘mighty and dreadful one’ of the Semitic race.” 

“ And how much more exquisite is the Greek litera¬ 
ture—I speak of it merely as literature. How beau¬ 
tiful, for instance, are these idyls of Theocritus! 
Taken simply as pastoral poems, there is nothing 
comparable to them in the Hebrew. Listen : 

Sweet is the music, O goatherd, of yon whispering pine to the 
fountains ; and sweetly, too, is thine breathed from thy pipe ! 

and again : 

Here are oaks, here is the galingale, here are bees sweetly 
humming around their hives. Here are two springs of coolest 
water, here birds warble in the trees .... and the pine showers 
its cones from on high. 

Are not these sweet songs ? ” 

“ Very sweet, indeed,” answered Bruce. “ But let 
me tell you, even in a pastoral poem, the Greek liter¬ 
ature is far behind the Hebrew. Listen to me now. 
Listen to the exquisite song of the women as they 
stand round the fountain, waiting their turn to draw : 

Spring up, O well ! Sing ye to it ! 

Well, that the princes digged. 

The nobles of the people bored, 

With the scepter and with their staves ! 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 


193 


You have but to read the few lines, and see the desert 
and the guarded well, and the waiting flocks, and the 
singing women ; women grand enough to be the 
mothers of Abraham’s countless seed. Hebrew 
maidens, straight as pine trees, with soft, large Syrian 
eyes, saluting the living waters that flow forth to their 
song. Spring up, O well ! Spring up ! Sing ye to 
it!” 

“ I never yet discovered that exquisite song. 
Where can I find it ? ” 

“ Hidden away in the Book of Numbers. I do not 
know the chapter and verse, but you may well search 
the whole book for it. Oh, the Bible has its lyrics, as 
well as its laws ! they are both perfect. Do you want 
a harvest song ? I will match Theocritus with Hosea. 

In that day, saith Jehovah, I will answer, 

I will answer the heavens, 

And they shall answer the earth, 

And the earth shall answer the corn, 

And the wine, and the oil. 

And they shall hear Jezreel. 

And I will have mercy upon her, 

Which had not obtained mercy ; 

And I will say unto them— 

‘ Thou art my people ! ’ 

And they shall say, 

‘ Thou art my God ! ’ 

Or do you wish an elegy ? Tell me to what literature 
shall we turn for an equal to the sublime peace of this 
old Hebrew dirge : 

There the wicked cease from troubling. 

And the weary are at rest; 

There the prisoners are at rest together ; 

They hear not the taskmaster’s voice. 

Small and great are there the same. 

And the servant is free from his master." 


194 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


But though the Colonel laid down his book, and 
listened with delight to Bruce’s fine recitation of the 
exquisite passages, Bruce was not interested. This 
was not the discussion he wanted. He had come to 
his friend for a conversation entirely different, and his 
friend was not inclined for it. He went back home 
disappointed. 

If a man is fighting sickness, calumny, bankruptcy, 
it is a visible struggle, and we are generally ready to 
give some sort of sympathy, but spiritual conflicts are 
beyond our ken. We cannot pity what we do not see 
nor possibly understand. The Colonel was politely 
bored at the first mention of conscientious doubts and 
scruples. He considered them a case for God’s audi¬ 
ence chamber, and why did not Mr. Bruce go there 
with them ? 

“ I think the minister is righteous overmuch, Dor- 
inda,” the Colonel said, “ and why did he mention 
Glenstrey’s domestic affairs? They are ignored by 
the whole neighborhood. It was bad taste, I think.” 

Now, this is the way of doubt of any kind ; it makes 
a lonely pain and weariness, which nothing but some 
brave deed of decision can dissipate. Suddenly there 
came into Bruce’s heart a determination to go and 
see Scotia, and learn from her own lips the measure 
of love she had for him. He told himself that he 
ought to make known to her his parentage. It might 
influence her very much. If she declined to marry 
the son of fisher parents, he might as well get rid of a 
false hope at once. She was in London, and his 
mother was in London. The latter was well ac¬ 
quainted with fashionable society and its ways. She 
would be able to give him Scotia’s address, and 
advise him as to the best hour for an interview with 


THE MINISTER'S TROUBLES. 


195 


her. He longed also for some heart near to his 
own, that he could pour out to, all his hopes and 
fears, and be comforted. His new-found mother, 
with her strong, tender face, was an irresistible idea 
to him. He took it at once into favor ; he wondered 
he had not thought of it before, j 

“ It came by chance, when I was thinking of some¬ 
thing very different,” he said, and then he instantly cor¬ 
rected himself ; “ there is no chance. Everything— 
thought, word, or deed—is but a link in a chain.” 

He fulfilled with a supersensitive care the last tittle 
of duty likely to be demanded of him, and when the 
Sabbath services were over, and Monday morning had 
broken, he left for London. He told no one of his 
intention. He very often visited Edinburgh for a few 
days at a time ; he did not propose to be longer away 
than he had been before. But it was Tuesday after¬ 
noon when he reached the great city. Heavy snows 
in the Border district had delayed the train, and he 
was weary and cold, and woefully depressed, when he 
stepped into a cab and gave his mother’s address to 
the driver. “ I shall see mother soon,” he whispered ; 
and then he dozed until the vehicle stopped. He put 
down the window and looked out. Through the dusk 
and drizzle he saw a large house, well lighted. The 
number was over the door, the name of the street on 
the lamp—there could be no mistake. He sent the 
cab away, and slowly mounted the steps. There was 
a large fire in the hall, and a servant in livery sitting 
before it, reading a newspaper. 

Bruce’s demand for entrance disturbed him. He 
came leisurely to answer it. When he saw no carriage 
he walked back to a table and laid down his paper. 
Then he threw open the door with an inquisitive stare 


196 


A SISTER TO ESA a. 


and silence that made Bruce burn with anger. He 
had come from a country where the garb of a minis¬ 
ter was a passport to respect. 

“ I wish to see Mrs. Ann Bruce,” he said with a 
lofty air, and the man instantly altered his behavior. 
He took Bruce into a large room furnished with the 
utmost magnificence, but whose use for the day was 
probably believed to be over, for the fire was dying 
out, and the gas unlit. 

“ Your name, sir ? ” 

He took the card offered him, and went upstairs 
muttering : 

“ Rev. Angus Bruce ! Well, I never ! ” 


XII. 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY. 


Not by appointment do we meet delight 
And joy ; they heed not our expectancy ; 

But round some corner in the streets of life. 

They on a sudden meet and clasp us with a smile.” 

“ Marriage, and death, and division, 

Make barren our lives. ” 



HE mere “gummidgingof selfish pessimism 


^ never brings help or practical relief in trouble, 
and Angus was sure, in spite of his weariness and un¬ 
certainty, that he had done right to face his doubts 
and fears, and so resolve them. With the calmness 
of decision he waited, scarcely noting anything around 
him except the general air of wealth and tasteful 
magnificence. Perhaps he was conscious also of a 
vague fear lest his unexpected presence should prove 
embarrassing to his mother. 

But if so, he had scarcely time to be unhappy about 
it, for in a very few minutes she appeared. He was 
standing on the hearth when the door opened, and he 
turned around and looked eagerly at the advancing 
woman. Her face was full of love and light. She 
came toward him with her hands outstretched, and 
before he was conscious of his own movement he had 
clasped her to his heart. 

“ How handsome you are, mother! ” was his first 


198 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


commonplace remark, and he held her at arm’s length 
and let his gaze take in the strong, noble face and 
ample, yet not ungraceftil form, fitly clothed in flow¬ 
ing silk. “How handsome you are! I am very 
proud of you.” 

“ When did you come to London, my dear lad ? ” 

“ I have just arrived.” 

“ And you are tired, and sleepy, and hungry ? ” 

“ Just so.” 

She touched a bell, and it was promptly answered. 
“ Park, take Mr. Bruce’s valise into No. 2. See that 
the fire is good. Tell Gibson to carry there a pot of 
tea and some cold game and whatever is neces¬ 
sary for Mr. Bruce’s refreshment.” Then turning to 
Bruce, “ I’ll hear naething, and I’ll say naething at 
this hour, Angus. You’ll go and get yoursel’ warmed, 
and fed, and rested, and then you’ll put on the vera 
best o’ your claithes and the finest o’ your linen, and 
we twa will hae dinner thegither—we twa by oursels 
—for my Lady goes to Lord Cowrie’s to dinner, and 
then you sail tell me a’ that is in your heart, dear lad, 
and I will gie you whate’er comfort and help I can gie.” 

She was taking him upstairs as she spoke, and in a 
few minutes he found himself alone in a handsome 
little parlor, the ante-room to a fine chamber, whose 
luxurious bed was almost overpoweringly inviting. 
But he was also hungry, and the tinkle of the glass 
and china, the refreshing odor of the tea, the cold 
game and pastry were equally tempting. He washed 
and ate and then slept as he had not done for many 
weeks—a deep, dreamless slumber, which filled him 
with a sense of rest from head to feet. He slept for 
hours ; it seemed to him as if it must be morning 
when he opened his eyes. 


A FORTUiYATE JOURXEY. 199 

His mother, with a lighted wax candle in her hand 
stood at his side. She had been watching him asleep 
for some moments, and she had felt how different was 
this face from the face of babyhood and boyhood. 
For when men sleep the soul comes to their face, as 
the water lily to the surface ; and she saw its love 
and sorrow, its hope and fear, written upon the pallor 
of those white features. 

He opened his eyes and caught the love in hers, 
and he knew her instantly. He was sure he would 
have known her, even if there had been no word of 
explanation between them. She stooped and kissed 
him, and said : “ Rise now, Angus, and dress yoursel' 
with your utmost care. We hae to think o’ the ser¬ 
vants, laddie; and for my sake, you must hold your- 
sel’ to your topmost bent and place.” 

“ I will do whatever you wish, mother. What time 
is it ? Have I slept long ? ” 

“ A matter o’ four hours. My lady is gane, and 
willna be back till after midnight. Dinner will be 
ready in twenty minutes, and I’ll come back here for 
you. You sail tak’ your ain mother on your arm first; 
there’s nane here that hae mair than my right.” 

He pondered her words as he dressed, but could 
make nothing of them ; and he was proud and happy 
indeed to feel her on his arm as they passed slowly 
down the grand stairway. The dinner was a very fine 
one, and was served with the utmost nicety and care. 
They two alone partook of it. When it was over 
they went to a small parlor in the rear of the dining¬ 
room. Here Ann brought her knitting, and Angus 
sat down by her side. 

She asked him no direct question, and yet he felt 
her sympathy so kind and kindling that he had no 


200 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


hesitation in opening all his heart to her. He told 
her everything—how his love for Scotia began, and 
how it had been trammeled and controlled by the 
Colonel’s confidence in him. “ She loves me, mother, 
I know ; or, at least, she did love me ; and I have heard 
nothing from her directly since she went to Lady 
Yarrow, except ”—then with reddening cheeks he con¬ 
fessed all about the valentine, his longing, his sin, and 
his remorse for his sin. 

So you see, mother, I have been tossed about like 
a rudderless boat, and at last it came into my heart to 
‘ go to mother.’ I thought ‘ no one can do wrong in 
seeking a good mother’s advice,’ and this is why you 
find me here to-night.” 

“ My dear one, you have done right. Sae the lassie 
loves you ? ” 

“ Indeed, I believe she does. And I do want to see 
her. Do you think I may call upon her ? Can you 
tell me where Lady Yarrow lives ? What hour of the 
day will be best to call } ” 

There was a happy smile on Ann’s face, as she 
answered : “ Naething is likely to prevent you seeing 

her. I’ll tak’ vera gude care you do see her. And 
I dinna doubt but what a happy hour will come your 
way. My dear lad, what gude lassie wouldna love 
you ? She is little to be blamed for it. You ken I 
saw [her sister, when I was at Rodney House wi’ 
you ? ” 

“Bertha ? Oh, Bertha is nothing like Scotia ! ” 

“ I’m gay glad o’ that. I didna fall in love wi’ 
Bertha Rodney, onyway. And I’m weel pleased you 
werna ta’en captive wi’ her blinking black e’en. She 
had vera sweet words and ways, but I didna trust 
them ; and sae I didna like them.” 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY, 


201 


Then Angus found his opportunity to describe the 
beauty and charm of the beloved Scotia. His lan¬ 
guage was so vivid and he set the girl so clearly be¬ 
fore them, that Ann said : “ Man ! when did you see 
her last? Surely you were dreaming before dinner o’ 
that tall, fair girl in the shiny white satin dress ? ” 

“ Oh mother ! if I could only see her again for five 
minutes I should be happy. Just five minutes, in 
which she should tell me truly if she loves me yet and 
will be my wife." 

“ Weel, weel Angus, bide ye yet, and bide ye yet 
Ye never ken what will betide ye yet, 

This bonnie sweet lassie may fa’ to your lot, 

Sae just be canty wi’ thinking o’’t." 

In such conversation, with its side issues of the Rod¬ 
neys and the Free Kirk, time sped very rapidly. The 
clock struck one. It was another day. Angus spoke 
of it with anxiety. “ I have but a short time in Lon¬ 
don,’’ he said. “ I must try and see her to-day. 
Mother, whose house is this ? I have not asked you 
before, because I thought every time you spoke you 
would tell me. But I ought to know, do you not 
think so ? ’’ 

“Yes, I do; but I am thinking, likewise, that my 
lady willna be pleased to hae me tak’ the w'ords out o’ 
her lips. I shall tell her as soon as she comes hame 
that you are here, and it’s no unlikely she’ll send at 
once for you. I thoct o’ this likelihood, when I said, 
‘ put on the best in your keeping’.’’ 

As she was speaking, a carriage drove rapidly to the 
door, and there was the silent stir which is usually all 
that accompanies a return from an entertainment. 
A few sharp words to the sleepy porter—the clashing 
of the main doors—the slipping of the big bolts—and 


202 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


the rustle of trailing garments on the polished oak 
steps, announced that the seekers of pleasure had 
come back—probably disappointed. 

“Wait here a few moments, Angus. I’ll be back, 
or I’ll send a messenger to you, before you’ll hae time 
to weary. If I dinna gae to her ladyship, she’ll think 
her warld is tapsalterie ; and she’ll be speiring of all 
and sundry if I’m drown’d, or dead, or gane to the 
warld’s end. And thae will hae mair than is true or 
heedfu’ to tell her anent yoursel’.” 

She went hastily out, and Bruce stood up and let 
the strangeness of all the pleasant surroundings sink 
into his heart. His eyes were dropped upon the fire, 
his hands clasped behind him, a faint smile—the smile 
of inward trust and hope—lighted the warm pallor of 
his handsome face. 

The door moved softly on its hinges. A sweet, 
subtile perfume—a still sweeter and more subtle per¬ 
sonality, touched him with an instantaneous and super¬ 
natural significance. He turned to the door as one 
spoken to by a spirit—and then, he was at Scotia’s 
side, he held her in his arms, he was whispering 
against her cheek, over, and over, and over, the dear 
delicious dissyllable “ Scotia ! Scotia ! Scotia ! ” 

And oh, how lovely she was ! Her white, glistening 
robes, her white arms and bosom glistening with gems, 
her long cloak of white cashmere trimmed with swan’s 
down, falling from and partly hiding her beauty and 
splendor, seemed to Angus only part and portion of 
her altogether charming personality—the proper ad¬ 
juncts of her glorious hair, her shining eyes, and her 
radiant face. 

For a little while his whole being was entranced by 
her presence ; he forgot all that was strange and un- 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY. 


203 


likely in the far greater wonder of seeing her, speak- 
ing to her, clasping her in his arms ; in the joyful 
miracle of hearing her call him “dearest ” and “ An¬ 
gus,” and feeling her hands in his hands and her 
cheek against his cheek. 

But such divine moments find nothing in our hu¬ 
manity on which they can rest; they enfold us in their 
fleet passage, and ^ire gone. With a happy sigh An¬ 
gus remembered first. He led Scotia to a seat, and 
stood beside her chair. It was such a delight to bend 
down to her sweet lifted face ; the touch of her hand 
charmed him ; the faint scent of woodruff filled the 
chambers of his brain with delicate impressions of 
forests, and mossy coverts, and tinkling springs ; and 
yet all these impressions were in some way part of 
Scotia. They talked softly with eloquent ellipses and 
shy glances—they found words useless, and filled 
silence with long looks of love, and smiles, and kisses. 

There was no need to ask Scotia any questions — 
no need to tell her of his fears and doubts. They 
had gone, he knew not where : only it seemed the 
vainest of things to remember they had once been. 
Ann left them nearly an hour together. They thought 
it was five minutes. They were just beginning to 
remember that they were not alone in the world ; just 
beginning to wonder and speculate, when she came 
into the room. Angus went to meet her. He brought 
her to Scotia ; he said, “Mother, this dear woman is 
to be my wife. Love her for my sake.” 

She put her hands on Scotia’s shoulders and kissed 
her; and then turning to Angus, said : 

“ Dinna think I hae the lesson to learn, Angus. 
The lassie kens weel that I love her for her ain sake.” 

And for a few minutes they stood together, and 


204 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Scotia called her mother. The dear word went to her 
heart with a little shock. Perhaps, in spite of her 
love for Angus, she was not quite happy. She had 
just found him, and already she must share his affec¬ 
tion with others. It takes a good deal of the love of 
God in the heart to suddenly give a mother’s love to 
the strange woman who takes the first place in an only 
son’s life. Will her love indeed atone for all she is to 
lose ? The poor mother ! She must rejoice, though 
her heart ache. It is so natural for the young to love 
and to wish to marry. True ! It is also so natural 
for the mother to cling to the son she loved before the 
girl-wife was born. The girl has loved him a year. 
The mother has loved him twenty-six years ; yea, and 
she loved his father before him. 

Ann did not consciously think of these things ; she 
was only sensible of their effect, and that very dimly. 
Her love for her boy had always been fettered and 
shared. It was no new grief that came to her. But 
her presence brought the lovers down to a more prac¬ 
tical and inquisitive level. 

‘‘Then I am in Lady Yarrow’s London house?” 
said Angus. 

“ And you are the mother of Angus ? ” said Scotia. 
“ I ought to have known it. How glad I am ! And 
has my Aunt Yarrow always known Angus ?” 

“ Since he was a bairn seven months auld she has 
kent him ; but I’ll answer nae questions this night— 
or morning. For I’m vera weary, and the baith o* 
you the same, dootless—or aught to be. Angus is at 
hame here, and Lady Yarrow bade me tell him sae. 
Sleep now, bairns, there’s all the to-morrows of life 
before you.” 

It was long after the noon hour when Lady Yarrow 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY. 


205 


sent for Angus. “You will send him here to me, 
Ann,” she said positively, “and he must come alone. 
You went to Rodney Law alone, and had the lad all 
to yourself. I am going, likewise, to have him all to 
myself. First impressions are weighty, and I will not 
have you meddle with my first impressions on our 
son.” 

So Angus was led by a footman into Lady Yarrow’s 
presence. She had made Ann dress her with extra¬ 
ordinary care ; she was seated in a richly carved high- 
backed chair that had some resemblance to a throne ; 
she assumed an air of dignity and authority. -Her 
idea was, to first fill the imagination of Angus with a 
sense of her lofty station and character, and then 
absolutely unbend to his claim upon her. She thought 
he would value her affection more if he realized the 
social distance between them. 

But Angus had been trained in the opinion that the 
office of a minister of Christ was the most exalted 
condition on earth. And there was a total absence of 
the servile in his nature, for he came of generations of 
fishers, who had called no man ‘ Master ’ but God 
Almighty ; men who asked no favor but fair winds 
and a smooth sea, and who went to Heaven for that 
favor. The sense of dependence also had never 
galled Angus. He had always supposed that his un¬ 
known benefactor had, in some way or other, the 
right to care for him. He had grown up under the 
favorable influence of financial independence and 
patrician dreams, and his mother’s revelation of the 
true story of his life had come too late to modify his 
physical bearing or his mental attitude. 

It was, however, a trying ordeal, and he felt it to be 
so. No matter how he carried himself through it he 


2 o6 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


thought it likely he would offend his patron’s ideals. 
For his intercourse with life having been mainly 
through ministers and schoolmen, he had little knowl¬ 
edge of fine ladies, and was obliged to form his concep¬ 
tions of them from Mrs. Rodney and the few families 
whom he had met at Rodney House. It did not occur 
to him there was any other type, and when he first 
glanced at Lady Yarrow he supposed his preconceived 
ideas to be correct. She sat still, and permitted him to 
approach her chair without a word or sign ; she felt 
during those moments that she was making her im- 
pression. 

But a woman so impulsive could not be held even 
by her own determinations. When Angus was close 
to her, when she felt the influence of his great physi¬ 
cal beauty, and caught the shining glance from his 
eyes, she abandoned all her fine plans; she rose 
quickly, stretched out her hand, and said with emotion : 

‘‘ Angus, my dear lad ! I am glad to see you ! 
Tut, tut ! do not kiss my hand ; that is but a cold 
greeting” ; and when, without more ado, he kissed her 
cheek, she blushed with pleasure at his “ world-like 
pith and sense.” 

‘‘ We will say nothing of the past, Angus.” 

“ But I must thank you. Lady Yarrow-” 

“ Call me ‘ mother,’ young man, if you wish to please 
me. No mother could have loved you better, or 
watched you with more care than I have done. I 
called you ‘ son ’ when you were but a bairn a few 
months old.” 

“ My dear mother, I am very grateful to you.” 

Yet, when I wrote to you anent the kirk-” 

“ That was a case of conscience, not of love or 
gratitude.” 



A FOJ^TUNATE JOURNEY. 


207 


And how do you feel on the subject now ? ” 

“ If the State does not do what is right-” 

Hear to the lad, judging great lawyers and states¬ 
men ! As if he knew better than both houses of Par¬ 
liament.” 

“ The wrong-doing of the State is so obvious that 
every shepherd and hind on the hills can see it. At 
the next May Assembly, I think nine-tenths of the 
Scotch clergy will leave their kirks and their 
manses, and I shall be among them. For a bite 
and a sup, would you have me give God’s honor to 
Caesar ? ” 

“ I would think little of you if you did. Go out 
with your brethren ; if you do not, I shall be ashamed 
of you.” 

“Yet Mr. Noble-” 

“ Mr. Noble set a snare for you—you were over 
true and wise to fall into it.” 

“ Mother, had you any right to-” 

“ Yes, Angus, I had a right. I know my rights, 
every one of them. 1 am not likely to go beyond 
them. One of them was to give you, yourself— 
placed minister though you be—any good opportu¬ 
nity that came to hand to find out your own heart—a 
knowledge beyond anything to be learned in the 
schools.” 

“ In that you are right, mother. And I am glad 
your heart is with the kirk and your own country.” 

“ I am not daft either way, Angus. If I were Eng¬ 
lish-born I should be for the Episcopals, no doubt. I 
should have come into the world with a bias that way, 
and I should call it ‘ conscience.’ Being a McDonald, 
I am not inclined to let Episcopals put a finger on 
Scotland’s Ark of the Covenant—though, between 





2 o8 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


you and myself, I am not planted for time and eter¬ 
nity on Presbyterianism.” 

“ The faith of Scotland-” 

“Tut! It came from Geneva. In the way of 
creeds, it is a thing of yesterday. If I were standing 
on a creed, I would away to what you call ‘ Babylon.’ ” 

“ John Knox-” 

“Was not an angel from heaven nor a prophet, 
nor yet the son of a prophet.” 

“ He was an apostle, and in iron times God sends 
iron apostles to make smooth His way. We sit at 
ease because he sowed in blood and fire, and then we 
call him harsh, and sour, and stern. He was not 
stern enough.” 

She smiled proudly. “ I dare say you would have 
been sterner. I am glad you can talk back. My life 
would be happy enough if it was not so monoto¬ 
nous, and it is a pleasure to discover a young gentle¬ 
man—young he is sure to be—who thinks differently 
from his neighbors.” 

“ When it comes to my creed-” 

“ And to mine ! And to everybody’s, let us be very 
tolerant. Until God make of one flesh all the families 
of the earth, we shall have different creeds, as we 
have different temperaments and different climates. 
Episcopacy suits these luxurious conservative Eng¬ 
lishmen. It gives them ready-made prayens, and 
makes them doubly dear and holy by the very fact 
that they have been said, over and over, for hun¬ 
dreds of years. Antiquity, here, is a kind of religion.” 

“In the matter of Kirk and State, there is not a 
weaver, or shepherd, or fisher, who does not know 
both sides of the argument from beginning to end.” 

“ Scotch weavers, and fishers, and shepherds, are not 



A FORTUNATE JOURNEY. 


209 


fed on plum pudding and roast beef, and their oat¬ 
meal and fish diet fills their restless brains with phos¬ 
phorus. All of them have that mere faculty of logic 
which belongs to lawyers and men educated at Edin¬ 
burgh ; and they would not thank you for a creed that 
was not full of difficulties. What they really enjoy is 
a good think over what is unthinkable to ordinary 
Englishmen. Angus, my dear lad, God is more than 
all the shrines that hold him ; and the wisest of creeds 
is but a childish effort to spell the Infinite.” 

“ But we must have creeds ; we must define what 
we believe.” 

“ Yes, as we must have laws to define what is right 
and wrong. Blessed are they who have the law of 
God in their heart, and who serve Him, being under 
bondage to no other law or creed ! Come, come, we 
will not sour the milk of human kindness with differ¬ 
ing about dogmas.” 

“ When we talk of God, words are so terribly inad¬ 
equate.” 

“ Yet, he who is so vast and strange 

When with intellect we gaze, 

Close to our heart steals in, in a thousand tender ways. 

We can love, even when we do not know. Surely you 
loved me, through all the years I cared for you, 
though you did not know me.” 

“ I loved always. I wondered very often. I longed 
for a revelation which would give me something real 
to cling to.” 

“ Be very grateful to me, Angus, that I gave you 
something to'wonder about, all through your growing 
years. Imagination and wonder are the creative fac¬ 
ulties. How much of your intellect do you owe to 


2 lO 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


wonder ? Happy were the children who lived when 
all the marvelous fountains were not dried up.” 

“ They are not yet dried up. Africa is still a won¬ 
derland ! ” 

“ No. It it is full of deserts, and we know all about 
sand, and sand-storms, and camels.” 

“ We may discover new tribes of black men.” 

“ We may hope to be spared that discovery. As 
for Persians, Turks, Arabians, we know them better 
than my father knew the Shetlanders, or the Ameri¬ 
cans. Cairo and Damascus used to be the home of 
the genii and the fairies ; they are as commonplace 
as Paris now. So be grateful that I gave you some¬ 
thing to wonder about all through your childhood.” 

“ But why did you do it ?” 

“ Why ? Why ? A Scot is born with a question 
all ready to ask. I will answer you in a question. If 
you had known you were Lady Yarrow’s adopted son ; 
if you had known that you were really the son of poor 
fishers, before you had the sense of a man, tell me 
what influence this knowledge would have had upon 
your unformed judgment, and your childish, imma¬ 
ture passions ? O, man, sit down and think over all 
the temptations I saved you from, and be grateful for 
all the healthy stimulants to study, and economy, and 
self-reliance I gave you.” 

“ You were a wise mother.” 

“I was, Angus. Love your ain mother, for I know 
she went weeping to sleep many a night for the long¬ 
ing she had for you ; but love me also, for I thought 
not of you as a bonnie lad to pet and play with ; I 
thought for your future. I planned for you the grand¬ 
est of careers. I have not only loved you well, but 
wisely.” 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY. 2li 

She rose as she spoke, and her large, expressive 
face was full of feeling. “ Give me your arm and 
take me down to my niece. You know Miss Rodney, 
of course.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You know her well ? ” 

“ Very well ; .she is a girl of sweet nature, joyous, 
ardent, lovely, hopeful ! ” 

“ Gently. You had better not praise her. We learn 
to love what we praise.” 

“ And ? ” 

‘‘ You must not love Scotia Rodney. I have found 
a mate for her, a young man exactly suitable. Why 
do you smile ? That is not good manners, sir.” 

“I smile because Colonel Rodney said nearly the 
same thing to me—‘ Do not fall in love with either 
of my daughters. I wish Blair Rodney to have the 
choice of them.' I have now been twice warned off 
Miss Rodney. It is enough to make me trespass.” 

“ Colonel Rodney was impertinent. How did he 
know you wished to marry either of his daughters ? 
And if you did, a minister of the Kirk, and Lady 
Yarrow’s adopted son, was mate high enough for any 
Rodney. If I had not made already a match between 
Captain Forres and Scotia, I would—well, I would 
please myself another way.” 

“ You have made that match, mother? ” 

“ I have settled the money matters anent it with 
Lord Forres ; and the young things will buckle to, 
when they get ready. They know I have set my heart 
upon it. Well, Ann, what are you wandering upstairs 
and downstairs for ? Here is our braw son. What 
do you think of him ? ” 

Two days of perfect happiness followed this meet- 


212 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


ing. The weather was wonderfully fine, and Angus 
drove in the Park with Scotia and Lady Yarrow, who 
delighted herself with the astonishment and curiosity 
his appearance caused. On the second evening there 
was a small dinner in his honor, and after it they sat 
together till long past midnight, enjoying the charms 
of a thoroughly confidential and sympathetic conver¬ 
sation. As they thus sat, Scotia took from her pocket 
a letter which had arrived at dusk. 

“ It is from Bertha,” she said ; “ and what does she 
mean, Mr. Bruce, by this remark: ‘The minister is 
from home ; and when he returns he will be shocked 
to hear that the mother of the child he refused to bap¬ 
tize has disappeared. No one knows where she has 
gone. Some say she has thrown herself into the 
sea. I should think the minister would feel like a 
murderer.’ ” 

“ I feel nothing like a murderer ; ” answered Angus. 
“The woman is not dead. She has gone away to lead 
a better life. I shall not reveal her secret. As for 
her child, 1 was not to blame. The Kirk makes the 
parents the sponsors, and they must be free from vice 
and live in observance of her ordinances.” 

“Poor mother!” said Lady Yarrow angrily. “I 
dare say she is breaking her heart for a grisly spiritual 
chimera. If God requires holiness before he admits 
to heaven, surely he requires sin before he dooms to 
hell. The babe had never sinned.” 

“ An infant dying unbaptized retains the burden of 
its original sin, and falls into eternal condemnation. 
Augustine saw unbaptized infants crying—‘Without 
hope, we live in desire of seeing God ? ” 

“ Angus, I will hear no such words. Christ took 
the little children on his knee and blessed them. Pie 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY. 213 

asked nothing about their parents. He said nothing 
about Adam’s sin.” 

“ Wait a wee, my lady. When Angus has sons and 
daughters o’ his ain he will think differently. It is 
the vera young men wha are the fierce Calvinists. I 
have aye noticed that. They get sweeter as they 
grow aulder. There was Minister Logan, wha sae 
bitter as he was on the doctrine o’ election ? I can 
mind yet, how angry you were wi’ him, for saying, 
‘ God chose men irrespective o’ their actions, and pre¬ 
destined them for eternal salvation ; ’ and how much 
mair than angry you were when he added, ‘ yea, my 
Lady, and ye shall hae the ither half o’ the doctrine— 
God refuses men irrespective o’ their actions, and pre¬ 
destinated them to eternal damnation.’ Weel, Logan 
has had twenty years growth since that day. I heard 
him last Sabbath, and he put it thus—‘ A good man 
may say, God chose me, and I am persuaded he will 
keep me unto the end.’ ” 

“ That is all right, Ann. It is the expression of 
Christian hope, the very temper of Scripture.” 

“ And of Calvinism ; ” added Angus with a smile, 
as he bent forward and took Lady Yarrow’s hand. 

So they sat for many hours, finding in such conver¬ 
sation a never wearying fascination ; and then, very 
soon after the break of day, Angus left London for 
Scotland. Scotia and Ann had hardly slept, and they 
were up to take an early breakfast with him ; and it 
was their bending faces, full of love and smiles, that he 
saw last, as he drove away from the house which he 
had entered with such a heavy heart, and which he left 
full of the hope and courage that springs from happy 
love. 

Lady Yarrow watched his departure from her 


214 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


chamber window. He was not conscious of this atten¬ 
tion, but fortunately he raised his eyes as he lifted his 
hat, and she believed that he had thus bade her an¬ 
other ‘farewell.’ She spoke of the circumstance with 
great feeling to Ann, and was proud and pleased all 
day in the imaginary remembrance. Indeed, when she 
had forgotten many other particulars of his visit, she 
recalled that last upward glance, which she had taken 
for herself. 

On the following Sabbath Angus was in his pulpit 
as usual. No one commented on his absence. Mon¬ 
day and Tuesday were particularly stormy days, but 
on Wednesday the rain abated and it was possible to 
walk to Rodney House. He found the family together 
in the parlor. Bertha had the Court Journal in her 
hand. She had been reading it to her father and 
mother. When Angus was seated and the natural 
preliminaries to conversation over, she said : 

“ We have just been speculating about Scotia’s new 
lover, Mr. Bruce.. The Journal says she was driving 
last Wednesday and Thursday with a very distin¬ 
guished-looking divine. Some Court chaplain, I sup¬ 
pose ? ” 

“ More likely some one whom she met at Oxford,” 
said the Colonel. “ Well, Mr. Bruce, how did you en¬ 
joy your visit to Edinburgh ? And what is going on 
there ? ” 

“ I was in London, sir. I did not go to Edinburgh 
at all.” 

“ In London ? Why did you not tell me you were 
going to London ? I would have given you a letter of 
introduction to Lady Yarrow, and you could have 
brought us word how my girl was faring.” 

“ I spent my whole time at Lady Yarrow’s house.” 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY, 


215 


Mrs. Rodney looked up angrily, as she said : “ I 
think it is a pity you did not have a letter from us. 
Scotia’s acquaintance was hardly a proper basis of in¬ 
troduction.” 

“ Lady Yarrow is my adopted mother. My own 
mother has lived with her more than twenty-five years.” 

“ As a—a-” 

“ As her friend, and companion.” 

“ Really, Mr. Bruce, this is very remarkable! 
Very ! ” said the Colonel. 

A succession of small thunder-bolts could scarcely 
have been more remarkable. The Colonel and Mrs. 
Rodney found themselves unable to duscuss the cir¬ 
cumstance, but Bertha said, with apparent indif¬ 
ference : 

“ Then it was you who were driving with Scotia ? 
How funny! and how very interesting! How is 
Scotia ? ” 

“She looks remarkably well, and appears to be very 
happy.” 

He had supposed that his information would cause 
surprise, but he was not prepared for the chill silence 
which followed it. Every one was ill at ease. Mrs. 
Rodney and Bertha quickly made an apology for their 
withdrawal, and went to Bertha’s room to discuss an 
event so astounding. The Colonel was indisposed to 
talk, and let every subject drop without discussing it. 
Angus made some trite remark about the gay life of 
London as ministering only to the senses, and the 
Colonel said querulously : 1 

“ Do you mean, Mr. Bruce, that the delights of the 
senses are not worth having? ” 

“ No, sir; but I think there is a certain waste of 
life unless we go further than this.” 



2i6 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Colonel Rodney was silent. Angus did not know 
whether from approval or dissent. After a short 
pause, he spoke of the great crowd of humanity in 
London. “ Contrasted with the steadfastness of na¬ 
ture,” he said, “ this crowd-wears a look of meanness, 
as of straws and dust, blown here and thereby winds.” 

“ Well, Mr. Bruce, some love this tide of life blown 
about Pall Mall and Cheapside, just as others love 
heath, and hill, and the long stretching downs, and 
the sea. Every man to his taste.” 

The tones were still touchy and out of sympathy. 
Angus was not willing to leave him in such a mood, 
and he made another attempt : “ I think in the coun¬ 
try we acquire a love for the subtle responsiveness of 
nature, and then we find the turmoil of cities weari¬ 
some and vulgar.” 

“ Perhaps. I do not know.—Mr. Bruce, what did 
you go to London for ? Will you tell me ? ” 

‘‘Yes, sir. I went to see Miss Rodney. I found my 
life so miserable in her absence and silence. I went 
to see her, and to speak to her.” 

“ Is your life less miserable now ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Have you nothing more to say to me ? ” 

“A great deal more, with your permission.” 

He bowed, and Angus continued: “I have loved 
Miss Rodney ever since the first moment I saw her.” 

“ Yes. All men say something like that.” 

“ It may be generally true, though all men say it. 
It is true in my case. Miss Rodney returns my affec¬ 
tion. She does me such great honor ! She gives me 
such great joy ! I ask you as any man ought to ask 
for such a pearl of womanhood—with all my heart, for 
your sanction to our marriage, at some future time.” 


A FORTUNATE JOURNEY. 


217 


I am very weary of the subject of marriage, Mr. 
Bruce. The one now in consideration—I mean the 
marriage of my daughter Bertha and Mr. Blair Rod¬ 
ney—has brought me only annoyance and disappoint¬ 
ment. Let me ask a favor of you. Say no more at 
present about your love for my daughter Scotia. 
Ask her to be equally considerate for me. I should 
like, when she returns, to have her a little while, with¬ 
out any sense of change. If it is to come, let me not 
feel it yet. If you show her love, if you speak words 
of love to her, let me not see it; or hear them. So 
far, I give you what you ask. It is all that at present 
is possible to me, without suffering.” 

“ It is enough, sir. I thank you for so much.” 

“ Then good-afternoon, Mr. Bruce. To-morrow, 
when you come, I will take up any other question you 
like. This conversation is complete at present, and ”— 
offering his hand—“ it is to make no difference between 
you and me—unless, it bring us more kindly to¬ 
gether.” 

With these hopeful words Bruce willingly accepted 
his dismissal. The power of intervals is great. To¬ 
morrow it would be possible to let life go on, as if 
words so full of fate had never been spoken. 

The ladies saw Bruce walking through the wet, 
desolate park, and they returned to the Colonel. They 
were feeling sore and offended, both with the minister 
and with Lady Yarrow ; and Mrs. Rodney said decid¬ 
edly : 

“I will tell you how it is, Kinross. Jemima got 
that man placed at Rodney Law. He was sent here 
as a spy. I have no doubt he has reported regularly 
to Jemima everything that went on in our house.” 

“ I am sure you are as far wrong as a woman can 


2i8 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


possibly be. Angus Bruce a spy ! It is an impossible 
idea!” 

“ What did he go to London for, if not that ?—unless 
he is in love with Scotia ! ” 

“ Dorinda ! For pity’s sake, put away any thought 
that implies another marriage. I have enough of that 
subject at present with Blair and Bertha,” and he left 
the room angrily muttering : 

“ Marriage, and death, and division, make barren 
our lives.” 


V 


XIII. 


RECOVERED. 


God unexpected, evil unforeseen, 

Appear by turns, as Fortune shifts the scene." 

“Then will I own I ought not to complain. 

Since that sweet hour, is worth whole years of pain. ” 

“ What then remains, but after past away 
To take the good Vicissitude of Joy ? 

To thank the gracious gods for what they give. 
Possess our souls, and while we live, to live." 


■Dryden. 



ES; great is the power of intervals. Without ex- 


^ planation, without any attempt to come to an 
understanding, or to re-establish a confidential and 
sympathetic relation, the mere passage of time accom¬ 
plished all. In a couple of weeks the Colonel and the 
minister had fallen back naturally into their old ami¬ 
cable conditions; and Mrs. Rodney and Bertha had 
wisdom enough to accept graciously the inevitable fact 
of Bruce's connection with Lady Yarrow. It was a 
never-ending source of speculation with them, but in 
the main, Bruce received the additional consideration 
which was socially its due. 

With a not unpleasant monotony the weeks passed 
quietly onward. Bruce was writing constant letters to 
Scotia, and receiving constant letters from her ; he did 
not, therefore, feel any interest in the Court Journal. 


219 


220 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


But he went frequently to Rodney House, and as the 
spring advanced, his walks with the Colonel assumed a 
very constant character. In this respect he slipped 
without intention into Scotia’s place, and a feeling of 
confidence grew steadily between the two men. 

Through the broad fields, and under the wide gray 
skies they walked together ; sometimes in eager dis¬ 
cussion, sometimes almost silent ; the rich brown 
earth, and the quick life of the young plantations giv¬ 
ing an aerial tone to their intercourse not readily ex¬ 
pressed. Both men loved nature and the scenes of a 
country life in a genuine way. They could stand and 
watch with pleasure the short-horned red and white 
cattle ruminating in the warm farm-yards ; or the 
sheep chewing and coughing among the turnips, while 
the shepherds and the collies were counting them. 
The fleecy bits of wool fluttering on the bare hedges 
caused an intelligent glance between them. Without 
words they read each other’s thoughts about them— 
the coming spring, the building birds, and the cozy 
nests they would furnish. 

As the weather grew warmer there was constant de¬ 
light for them in the plowing. “Look at Jack Low- 
ther,” the Colonel would say proudly. “ Jack has an 
eye keen as a sportsman, and a hand as sensitive as a 
fly-fisher ; he could not make such gore-furrows and 
gathered-ridges, and cleaved-down ridges, and head- 
ridges, and ribbing, if he had not. It is an art to 
plow straight and deep, as Jack does. And listen 
how he talks to his horses! Jack told me that they 
sulk at their plowing unless they hear his voice at the 
plow-shafts.” 

“If I were an artist,” said Bruce admiringly, “ I 
should come to such plowmen and such horses for a 


RECOVERED. 


221 


picture. It is a study in anatomy to watch the head 
and forequarters of that furrow horse. Look how 
proudly and gladly he bends his knees, and grasps 
the soil with his hoofs ! And see how gracefully his 
glossy neck is curved ! I think a fine horse, plowing, 
has the most noble action in the animal world.” 

You have not seen a war horse scenting the battle 
afar off.” 

Bruce would not relinquish his point, and they dis¬ 
cussed it with a pleasant warmth all the way to the 
Stone Pillar. As they returned, they met the men 
going home after their day’s work, and the Colonel 
said, “ What individualities nature makes! Compare 
these Scotch hinds with the low caste Hindoos, or 
even with the English farm hand or the Irish peasant.” 

“ These Scotch hinds and shepherds have strong 
faces.” 

“ You may see in them the damp, rainy weather— 
the gray cold mornings and evenings—the strong 
equal force of seasons which take root in their hearts. 
They are sons of the soil. Lowther, who comes from 
the Border, has much of its breezy atmosphere and 
its singing ‘waters ’ in his nature. Look at him now ! 
He has left his plow at the furrow end. With what 
an easy, lolling movement he is riding his barebacked 
horse to stable ! How his big-booted feet dangle at 
the sides of the animal ! And hear how he is whist¬ 
ling, and how the plow-chains clank merrily to the 
melody ! ” 

Sometimes they rode as far as the sea coast, and 
then, leaving the carriages, walked an hour or more on 
the high crags which battlemented the North Sea ; 
and not unfrequently to the low estuary where the 
river found its way back to the ocean—a very desolate 


222 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Stretch, but one which in certain moods had a pro¬ 
nounced charm, though it was but a bare strand, 
matted with thistles and such amphibious weeds as 
are bred from the embrace of earth and the salt ooze. 

Then came the April smell of rainy fields, and the 
glimmering of rain-drenched leaves made bright by 
sudden sunshine ; and anon, the hawthorn blossoms, 
and the orchard blooms, and 

The flycatcher on the lawn, 

With the bean flower’s boon, 

And the blackbird’s tune, 

and all the joy of May. Scotia was to return home 
in May, and Bertha was to be married the first week 
in June. Blair was already filling Rodney House 
with his imposing personality. 

Blair disapproved of Mr. Bruce. He always had 
disapproved of him, and he was not conciliated by 
the fact of the minister’s claim upon Lady Yarrow. 
Indeed he resented what he was pleased to call his 
‘ intrusion ’ into their family. For it was a favorite 
wonder between Bertha and himself how far the Rod¬ 
neys would be benefited by Aunt Yarrow’s wealth. 
Hitherto Scotia and Bertha had been regarded as her 
nearest relations ; but “ an adopted son,” Blair said 
to Bertha, “ is a very serious interloper. Old women 
are fanciful, and Bruce is undeniably attractive ; he 
may push himself before the right heirs.” 

Never had Bruce seen the Colonel so fretful and 
unhappy. He had the reward of those who call some 
special thing unto themselves, and are determined to 
have it—disappointment and heartache. The plan he 
had made was successful after a fashion. He had 
secured Blair Rodney for a son-in-law, but Blair was 
not marrying the daughter he had chosen to inherit. 


RECOVEJiED. 


223 


That was his first disappointment. The second was 
even more serious,—he had come to dislike Blair with 
all the intensity of his intense temperament. He 
could hardly believe that the young man had ever 
been pleasant to him. He told his wife that Blair had 
spoiled Bertha. “ She has already identified herself 
with Blair’s interests, and Blair has taught her to be¬ 
lieve his interests are not identical with ours. I have 
lost a daughter, Dorinda, and I have not gained a 
son.” He said such words very often, and very sadly. 

At first Mrs. Rodney had denied the position, but 
even to her there had come a conviction, that after the 
marriage was over she would find herself far from a 
welcome guest at Innergrey. For when Blair arrived 
early in May, he at once assumed the tone of “ master ” 
as far as the Dower House was* concerned. His ob¬ 
jections to several things she had ordered were de¬ 
cisive. He would have this, and he would not have 
that, and on the first Sabbath he positively refused to 
go to Rodney kirk. 

“ I dislike Mr. Bruce,” he said. I do not approve 
of his views on many subjects, and I get no spiritual 
good from him. Besides, I think Bertha and I, as 
master and mistress of Innergrey, ought to worship at 
the little kirk near there.” 

“And I am glad he is going to worship there”; 
said the Colonel privately. “ I shall be more likely to 
worship at Rodney, only he did not give his real 
reasons for the preference.” 

“ I think he did, Kinross. I know he dislikes Mr. 
Bruce very much.” 

“ He dislikes me—us, I should say. And he cannot 
endure not to be first, wherever he is. If he sits in 
Rodney kirk he sits in our pew, and is one of ouf 


224 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


household. At Innergrey, he will be master. He 
will be the greatest man in the congregation. He 
can spread Blair Rodney over kirk, minister, and 
parish.” 

“ Perhaps it is natural to feel so.” 

“ Perhaps it is—but there is a grace above nature. 
It is supposed to actuate Christians.” 

Every day now the Colonel and Blair Rodney drifted 
further apart. For there was now no necessity for 
Blair to efface himself and be conciliating. He had 
won Bertha, and the estate. The cards for his wed¬ 
ding festival were already scattered over the country 
side, the preparations for the great ceremony were 
nearly complete. The Colonel had given his word 
about the estate ; he was not a man to break a tittle of 
it. Even if he were inclined to do so, Blair had a letter 
from the Colonel in which he distinctly said : “ 1 make 
you, Blair, heir of Rodney Law ; because I have no 
living son, and you are the next male in the direct 
line.” There was also the tremendous power of the 
public knowledge of this decision. All who knew the 
Rodneys, knew that he was to marry Bertha Rodney. 
And Bertha idolized him. There was no fear of her 
withdrawal; and her constancy meant all that was 
included in his right as heir. 

So the last weeks of May were unhappy weeks. 
Though the weather was charming, and the outside 
world busy with its delightful spring business, Rodney 
House was pervaded by a restless, dissatisfied ele¬ 
ment. All its pleasant, methodical ways were dis¬ 
turbed by the marriage preparations, and by the 
disputings over them. The Colonel excluded himself 
from all such consultations. He took the privilege 
his admitted frail health gave him, and kept his own 


RECOVERED. - 


225 


room until the afternoon brought Mr. Bruce to be his 
companion. “ All this turmoil makes me miserable, 
Mr. Bruce, and I keep out of it,” he said sadly, and 
he would have been still more miserable if he had 
known how really glad Bertha and Blair were he did 
keep out of it. 

During this same time Bertha and Blair would also 
have been very miserable, if they had known how 
often the Colonel came near annulling the whole con¬ 
nection, as far as he had the power to do so. “ A 
man alters his will as often as he likes, Mr. Bruce ?” 
he asked one day. And one word of assent from the 
minister at that time would have made the Colonel 
take an irrevocable step as regarded Blair Rodney’s 
succession. But Bruce looked at him with denial in 
his eyes, and remained silent. 

“ I shall ask my lawyer. I shall send for him to¬ 
morrow.” 

“ I would ask your conscience. I would ask it this 
night.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Bruce, I am so unhappy ! ” 

“All changes make a certain melancholy. What 
we have to put behind us is part of ourselves. We 
must die to this life. Colonel, before we enter another.” 

“ If I could see the future.” 

“ The future is shaped out of the past, and is in 
God’s hands'. Leave it there.” 

“ I try to. I have made a great mistake. I see 
now, how hard it is to order our own way.” 

This conversation occurred on a Saturday night. 
On the following Tuesday Scotia would be home. On 
Thursday the marriage would take place. Blair was 
jubilant; there was more of Blair Rodney in the house 
every hour. Bertha behaved very prettily. She was 


226 


A SISTER TO ESAL\ 


desirous of leaving a sweet memory, and these few 
last days would preserve it best. Mrs. Rodney was 
weary and fretful. So many things devolved on her. 
She wished now that she had accepted Scotia’s offer 
to return home earlier, and relieve her of part of the 
burden. But when the offer came she was just in the 
first enthusiasm of orders and directions. It appeared 
then to be very easy work ; she did not think it likely 
that she would tire of it. 

And she feared some unpleasant collision. She 
could see that Blair and Bertha, in their effusive hap¬ 
piness, were selfish and dictatorial. The Colonel was 
hard to manage as things were. Scotia would prob¬ 
ably have good grounds for complaint, and if Scotia 
and her father began to sympathize with each other, 
no one could tell what trouble might ensue. So Mrs. 
Rodney advised Scotia not to return until the wed¬ 
ding was at hand, and Scotia was not unwilling to 
escape its trying antecedents. 

“ This is the last Sabbath of my maiden life ! ” said 
Bertha with a sigh. “ I remember my betrothal Sab¬ 
bath so well. And next Sabbath will be my bride 
Sabbath ! Blair, dear one, how strange it all is ! ” 

She delighted in such platitudes, and Blair felt them 
to be the proper reflections. For the time they made 
Bertha and himself the central pivot on which even 
Sabbath days turned. And self-complacency is such 
a comfortable sensation. If a man is kept under its 
influence, he naturally spreads himself, and takes up 
more room than he ought. 

“ I am so lucky about weather ; ” said Bertha, as 
she smoothed her snowy muslin dress. “ See how the 
sun is shining, and what a delicate perfume comes in 
through the open window.” 


RECO VERED, 


227 


“ ’Tis from the wall-flowers, and the May lilies ; ” 
said Mrs. Rodney. 

Then they went to church, and because Mrs. Rod¬ 
ney was alone they went with her to Rodney Kirk. 
And Blair took several occasions to point out this bit 
of self-denial to her. “ I dislike Mr. Bruce, and I 
think he preaches a very unprofitable sermon, but 
Bertha and I cannot suffer you to go alone, mother.” 

“ Dear me ! I must not forget that this is my last 
Sabbath in childhood’s kirk ! ” and Bertha sighed and 
looked sweetly mournful and very charming indeed. 

In the afternoon Mrs. Rodney declared herself un¬ 
able to goto church again. She said she was “ sleepy 
and worn out, and could not give attention to the ser¬ 
vice.” ^o Blair and Bertha went to Innergrey very 
early, having determined privately to drive around by 
the house, and see if some work ordered to be done 
on the garden had been completed. 

Soon after they had gone the Colonel came down¬ 
stairs. He was dressed for kirk, but looked thought¬ 
ful and preoccupied. He said he had had a strange 
dream, and asked where Bertha and Blair were. 

“ They went to the kirk by Innergrey, I believe.” 
Are you going to kirk, Dorinda ? ” 

I am too sick and tired.” 

“Then I will have the victoria, and Traill shall 
drive me.’* 

“ Blair and Bertha have taken the victoria, and 
Traill is driving them.” 

“ Well I suppose I must have the landau and Jack 
Lowther.” He gave the order and was silent until the 
carriage was at the door ; then he kissed his wife and 
bade her rest till his return. It was a pleasure to catch 
Lowther’s smiling face ; the man looked so happy, 


228 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


and spoke so cheerily, and did his work so willingly, 
that he radiated a glad content. The Colonel answered 
his smile, and a load seemed to fall from his heart. 
But this was not all. In some way Lowther had been 
a part of his dream. He could not recall in what 
way, but he knew that he had seen the man in its 
shadowy presentiment. He was searching his mind 
for this half-forgotten dream all the way to kirk. 

It was hardly service time when they arrived, but the 
Colonel was glad to surround himself with that atmos¬ 
phere of retirement from earth, which was there pos¬ 
sible. He had rarely felt so little able to control either 
his outer or inner man. Drifting thoughts from every 
corner of his past life floated through his memory; he 
was like a feather wafted here and there, as chance hap¬ 
pened to carry him. When Bruce began the service, he 
made a great effort to collect himself, but his soul would 
not attend ; it seemed to be steeped in quiescence and 
indifference ; a state—if people would but notice it— 
often prefiguring some sharp and sudden call upon its 
utmost forces or its endurance. 

Through the open windows he heard vaguely the 
wind in the fir trees outside the kirk, and the bees hum¬ 
ming among the flowers that sweetened the graves. 
He knew that he rose and sat down with the congre¬ 
gation, and that their voices, and the voice of the 
preacher, was in his ears like sounds far off and far 
away from his care or interest. But his eyes were 
mostly closed, and he felt no inclination to use any 
other sense. 

Toward the end of the final hymn there was a decid¬ 
ed movement at the inner door of the kirk, and one 
of the elders spoke to two strangers who entered. One 
was a man of more than fifty years of age, grizzled and 


RECOVERED. 


229 


tanned with exposure to fierce suns and hot winds. 
The other was much younger, and looked like one ac¬ 
customed to carry arms, and to have his own way. His 
manner was imperious and impatient; for while his 
companion hesitated to disobey the sign and whispered 
injunction of the kirk-officer, he totally disregarded it. 

With swift, natural steps he went to Colonel Rod¬ 
ney’s pew. The congregation was rising—the preacher 
waiting to give the benediction—the Colonel stand¬ 
ing with closed eyes and both hands resting on 
the top of his staff. His white, impassive face be¬ 
trayed no knowledge of the interruption. He was 
indeed unconscious of it until the man was before 
him. He said one word. The Colonel opened his 
eyes, and his staff fell to the ground. For he had flung 
up his arms, and been caught in the arms of the speaker. 

“Father! My Father! It is Archie! I was not 
killed at Durphoot camp. Lord Moffat has brought 
me back. Father! dear Father ! “ 

The sweet love which filled these broken sen¬ 
tences—the strong arms around him—the cheek wet 
with tears against his cheek—the great blue eyes, 
whose candid gaze he knew so well—all the joyful 
certainty of the miracle, took but one swift, glad min¬ 
ute to enact. The minister’s solemn voice invoking 
the benediction had scarce ceased ere the Colonel was 
all alive to the great and wonderful joy that had come 
to him. 

“ My son ! My son ! ’’ 

The words mingled themselves with the son’s My 
father! My father! ’’ Recognition was instantaneous 
as thought, and sure as life. And just as quickly the 
wine of joy flew to the Colonel’s heart, and made him 
strong from head to foot. 


230 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


He took his son’s arm and with an irresistible move¬ 
ment led him to the front of the pulpit. In this move¬ 
ment there was something imperative and peremptory. 
The people were arrested by it. They looked with 
amazement on the two men standing in a place so 
authoritative and distinctive; they were still more 
amazed when the Colonel in a glad resonant voice cried 
out: 

‘‘Friends and neighbors! Stay a moment and re¬ 
joice with me ! This is my son ! He was dead, and 
he is alive again ; he was lost, and he is found ! ” 

Lord Moffat came quickly to the young man’s side, 
Bruce—still wearing his gown—to the Colonel’s. 
There was an indescribable murmur of sympathy 
through the kirk—the sweet vibration of a thousand 
blessings in one. 

“ This is my son ! This is my son ! ” He kept 
repeating the words, as leaning on the young man’s 
arm, he passed through the rejoicing congregation. 
He did not know that he was weeping—that tears of 
unspeakable joy were rolling down his cheeks—that he 
was walking without his staff—that he was suddenly 
twenty years younger. 

The little party were stayed at every step by some 
tenant or shepherd, each took the young laird’s hand 
and gave him a “ God bless you, sir ! ” The Colonel 
could say nothing in reply but “ My Son I Bal- 

burn. My son 1 Craill. My son ! Tyndall.” 

He was beside himself with joy. And Bruce, see¬ 
ing it, lifted his hand to command silence, and then 

lifted his voice in a verse, which all instantly took up, 
and so singing, went out of the House of God, praising 
Him : 


RECO VERED. 


231 


Who doth redeem thy life, that thou 
To death may’st not go down ; 

Who thee with loving kindness doth 
And tender mercies crown.* 

Jack Lowther stood at the carriage, and one of the 
elders remembered the Colonel’s hat and staff. He 
would not, of himself, have noticed the want of either. 
He put his son beside him, and Lord Moffat and the 
minister occupied the other seat. And now and then 
Jack Lowther turned his large face backward. It was 
shining like the sun. Jack would have dearly liked to 
whistle “ Muirland Willie,” if it had not been the Sab¬ 
bath. And once he caught his master’s eye, and gave 
him back his smile, and then the Colonel suddenly re¬ 
membered his dream, and knew that some one behind 
him had perceived the joy that was at hand—had 
known all the details of it so accurately, that even his 
unusual driver had been foreseen. And in a moment 
of spiritual comradeship, he involuntarily stretched out 
his hand to this unseen and unknown friend. 

He soon found out that Archibald spoke little and 
very imperfect English. “ He has been in the colleges 
of Bokhara and the camps of Khiva,” said Lord Mof¬ 
fat, “ but he has a noble heart, and good abilities, and 
he will soon recapture all, and more than he has lost 
from the past.” 

At this hour the Colonel hardly seemed able to care 
for the past. Archibald was beside him. He could 
look into his face, clasp his hand, and hear him speak. 
“ Let the past go.” It troubled him to hear it named. 

As they approached the house, Mrs. Rodney heard 
the carriage wheels, and she rose and went to the win- 

* Psalm 103. Version allowed by General Assembly of the Kirk 
of Scotland. 



A SISTEJi TO ESAU. 


232 

dow. She knew Bruce, but who were these strangers 
Her first feeling was one of anger. Surely the Colonel 
knew how tired she was—how much she had to do. 
What did he mean by bringing company home, and 
on the Sabbath day ? Bruce also ! The minister 
never visited on the Sabbath. Why had he come this 
day? A sudden fear about Bertha and Blair made her 
sick. Had anything happened them ? Were the 
strangers doctors ? 

Then the Colonel’s'voice startled her. There was a 
ring in it unknown for years. He came upstairs like a 
young man. There were other steps with his. She 
stood in the middle of her room, prescient of some 
strange event, trembling with its uncertainty. The 
Colonel slightly opened the door and looked in. His 
face was so changed, his voice was so changed, but be¬ 
fore she could speak and ask any question, he had 
taken her to his breast, he was asking her “if she could 
bear a great joy ? If she could believe what was the 
most unlikely of all events to happen ? Oh, Dorinda ! 
can you think of Archie alive ? Of Archie coming 
home again ? Of Archie here? Dearest, do not faint 
and miss your wonderful happiness. Archie ! Archie ! 
Come here now ! Come here.” 

She sunk into a chair speechless, her eyes dilating 
with rapture and love as the young man approached. 
He fell on his knees by her side. He put his arms 
around her neck. He drew her head into his breast, 
and whispered over and over, that one, sweet, ineffable 
wo»*d, “ Mother ! Mother ! Mother ! ” 

Then the Colonel closed the door and left them 
alone. He began to think of his duties as a host, of 
the gratitude due his unknown benefactor, and sud¬ 
denly—as if he had been struck by the thought—of 


RECOVERED. 


233 


Bertha and Blair. As they entered his mind, they 
entered the house. The Colonel saw them coming to¬ 
ward him. They also saw the Colonel, and his face 
startled them, though they had no time to make a pri¬ 
vate comment on it. But as soon as he was near, Ber¬ 
tha said : 

“ Father, how well—how strange you look ! Has 
anything happened?'’ 

“ The strangest thing that could happen, Bertha. 
Your lost brother Archibald has come home. Lord 
Moffat found him at Bokhara.” 

“ Archibald come home ? Impossible ! ” 

“ He is now with your mother. Go, welcome him ! ” 
and Bertha, without a word, fled upstairs ; but she went 
not to her mother’s room, she ran to her own chamber, 
and locking the doors threw herself on her bed in a 
paroxysm of apprehensive misery. 

“ Oh, why did he come just now ? Why did he not 
wait just one week? Then I would not have cared 
so much ! Oh, how miserable I am ! And I was so 
happy ! How cruel ! How cruel ! ” 

Blair took the information with incredulity. “It is 
quite impossible, sir,” he said. “After so long an 
absence, you might be very easily deceived. I should 
not be too sanguine, if I were you.” 

“Thank God, there is no deception! I knew my 
son at once. He has brought evidence beyond doubt 
with him. Why, my boy has in his pocket to-day the 
only two letters his mother ever wrote him ; the little 
purse she netted for him ; the faded silhouette of his 
sister Scotia, sitting on her mother’s knee. There is 
no possible mistake. It is my very own son Archi¬ 
bald ! ” 

“ Then, sir, it will be necessary for me to have a 


234 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


very quick understanding with you concerning my 
rights.” 

“Your rights? Yes, yes! But it is the Sabbath. 
We will speak about them in the morning.” 

Blair bowed and went to his room. Sabbath or no 
Sabbath, he gave way there to his rage and disappoint¬ 
ment. It had been a great effort to hide it from the 
Colonel. “Confusion,” he muttered. “What is to 
be done ; I shall lose the estate now, of course. Well, 
he shall pay me well to give up my claim—and marry 
his daughter. I am not going to bind myself for a 
trifle. This new-found son. Pshaw! he is an im¬ 
postor. And the Colonel knows it. But I have felt 
that I was disliked lately. No impostor shall deceive 
me ; I will find him out, and send him to the tread¬ 
mill.” 

But even while he promised himself so much, he 
had an invincible doubt in his heart. Assert as he 
would, he believed Archibald Rodney had been re¬ 
covered. He felt that his claim was already set aside, 
and he had a mortifying conviction that Colonel Rod¬ 
ney was glad to be rid of him and his pretentions to 
Rodney. 

A few hours with the young laird turned these 
doubts into certainties. When Archibald entered the 
dining-room with his mother on his arm, his personal¬ 
ity was beyond impugning. When he stood by his 
father’s side, he was the Colonel’s youth come back 
again. He also remembered the most trivial affairs of 
his childhood’s home—the names of his horse and 
dog—of many of his father’s regiment. He could 
describe yet ladies who had visited them. With Lord 
Moffat’s assistance as a translator, he could give the 
history of all the events and changes of his own cap- 


RECO VERED. 


235 


tivity. There was no more chance of denying his 
claim than of denying that two and two make four. 

He told Bertha this before they parted that night. 
They were sitting in the large drawing-room, where 
they had gone to be alone. It had been prepared for 
the marriage-feast, and the preparations had already 
a look of being out of place and unnecessary. 

“It is really my brother,” said Bertha. 

“It is your brother. There is no doubt of it.” 

“Will his return affect us very much, dear 
Blair?” 

“It will prevent our marriage—for some time.” 

“Oh, Blair! Blair! How can you look at it in 
such a cruel way ? ” 

“We must be sensible, Bertha. Your father prom¬ 
ised us Innergrey, and one thousand pounds a year. 
That, with my income, would have been sufficient.” 

“And he will not take Innergrey from us. That 
would not be like father.” 

“But if he does not give us the income to keep the 
house ?” 

“But he will, Blair. I am sure he will.” 

“ I do not think so.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because the new heir will require the income, my 
dear. Rodney will not support two heirs-apparent.” 

He spoke coldly and with some temper. Poor 
Bertha’s heart was sick with fear. She tried all her 
pretty wiles on this big man, sulky with his own loss 
of prestige, but without effect. She thought he never 
bade her “ good-night ” so carelessly. He said he 
was so full of anxiety, he did not know what he was 
doing. But Bertha felt that he ought to have remem¬ 
bered her anxiety—the crushing shame and chagrin she 


236 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


must suffer, if her marriage was postponed—all the 
womanly humiliations she would have to bear—and 
added thereto, the same loss of prestige he felt person¬ 
ally to be so bitter. 


XIV. 


THE LOST FOUND. 


** This money has a power above 
The stars and fates to manage Love ; 

Whose arrows learned poets hold 
That never fail, are tipp’d with gold. 

And though Love’s all the world’s pretense 
Money’s the mythologic sense 
The real substance of the shadow 
Which all address and courtship’s made to.” 


— Hudibras. 


“ The conscience of a people is theirpower.” 


— Dryden. 


HIS eventful Sabbath had other points of interest 



besides those affecting the house of Rodney. It 
was to Angus Bruce also a turning point in life. For 
it was the last Sabbath he would ever officiate as a 
minister of the established Kirk of Scotland. The dis¬ 
ruption so long anticipated had taken place, and Angus 
had been one of the four hundred ministers who had 
left kirk and manse on the question of the supreme 
authority of Christ in all spiritual matters. He had 
intended to speak to the people on the subject after 
the service, or rather to appoint a meeting to consider 
the peculiar condition of his congregation, and collect 
the suffrages and assistance of all who purposed to 
form themselves into a Free Kirk. But the subject 
had been put out of his mind by the unexpected circum- 


238 


'a sister to ESAU, 


Stance of Archibald’s restoration to his family, and his 
native land. 

■ However, when he returned to the manse he found 
a large company awaiting him. The books and pic¬ 
tures which had given to the room its only element of 
comfort were now packed for removal, and on tlie 
rough pine boxes this grave society were calmly sitting 
reviewing the opinions which had left them churchless 
in a land of churches. Bruce’s entrance was a wel¬ 
come interruption, for no one had heard the particu¬ 
lars of the great convention, and all were solemnly 
curious about it. 

“ Glad to see you. Minister,” said Elder Bogie. 
“We are nane o’us fit for the week’s wark till we hear 
o’ the great wark in Edinburgh. And we are proud 
indeed that you spoke for us all on that day ; and now 
we want to stand by your side, in whate’er you think it 
right for us to do. ’Twould be a grand day, Minister ? ” 

“Such a day as none now living may ever see again. 
Such a night before the day, I may add. For none 
but little children or the most thoughtless of men and 
women slept an hour in it. Indeed, the streets of Edin¬ 
burgh were crowded with earnest men, who could not 
rest for the thoughts within them. And the ministers 
were going from group to group, stirring up the people 
to stand for the rights of the Kirk of Scotland. Oh 
men ! the beautiful city has seen many an anxious night 
in her long history, but not even when Prince Charlie 
entered it, and the gray old castle looked down on his 
gallant nobles and Highland host, did it see so noble 
a gathering ! It was the host of the Lord, ready every 
man of them to give the last penny of his substance, 
and the last drop of his blood, for the honor of God’s 
name and God’s house. Day came, but nobody 


THE LOST FOUND, 


239 


thought of their own affairs. Shops were shuttered 
and locked, men and masters alike, were waiting to see 
if the ministers would have grace and strength to stand 
by the Kirk, when their allegiance would make them 
homeless and penniless.” 

“ Honest men ! They didna fail her. Minister?” 

“ Not one of them. Deacon Lusk. I was in the 
Assembly Hall when the Marquis of Bute appeared 
for the Queen. Dr. Welsh, as the moderator, made 
the complaint for the Kirk—told all her wrongs and 
humiliations, specially the putting of the civil power 
above her, in her own spiritual functions; the con¬ 
tempt with which her petitions for redress had been 
received, such, and so on. Then advising all who 
were for a Free Kirk to withdraw, taking with them 
the Confession of Faith, and the standards of the 
Kirk of Scotland, he bowed to Lord Bute, left his 
chair and turned to the door. Dr. Chalmers lifted 
his hat and followed him—then Campbell of Monzie— 
and Dr. Gordon, and Dr. Macfarlane—and man after 
man—and row after row—till on the benches that had 
been so crowded, there was scarce a man left. In a 
few silent and solemn minutes, four hundred minis¬ 
ters and five hundred elders had withdrawn. The 
rest of the great audience rose to their feet. They 
were still as death, gazing breathless on the scene. 
Many were weeping. I have no doubt all were pray- 
ing.” 

On a theme so grand it was easy to talk the night 
away ; and indeed it was in the first melancholy gleam 
of dawn that Bruce walked to the manse gate with his 
friends. For a fevv minutes he remained there, watch¬ 
ing the men as they went to their sheepfolds and fish¬ 
ing boats—their large, plaided, bonneted forms look- 


240 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


ing through the misty, fantastic shroud, as colossally 
unreal as men in a vision. 

Then he returned to his desolated, uncomfortable 
room, and fell suddenly to his lowest physical ebb. 
He could not think any more; feel any more ; he 
could not even keep his eyes open. He let his per¬ 
sonality escape, flutter away, evaporate. He was soon 
in that deep sleep which visits exhausted men. The 
packing-cases, the disorder, the meagerness of the 
furniture, gave an atmosphere of great unrest to the 
room. But in the midst of it, on the hard, black 
couch, the handsome form of the sleeping minister 
lay in perfect peace. Fleshly material men sink al¬ 
most as low as pure matter when they sleep, but the 
eager soul of Angus Bruce still illumined its mask of 
beautiful clay. His eyelids were luminous ; his mouth 
smiling; his long, white hands, though quite still, 
looked as if they remembered their skill and aptitudes. 
For though it cannot reflect, the body does remember— 
the feet of the dancer, the fingers of the musician or 
writer, have a memory special to their powers. 

Alas ! it is in youth, when we need it least, that 
such sleep is possible. Years exhaust the capacity for 
it, and the soul has fretted and worried the animal in¬ 
stincts away which brought the sweet restorative. 
While Bruce was renewing life in oblivion to all its 
demands, the Colonel was wasting it in restless move¬ 
ments and intense feeling. Though his son was fast 
asleep in the next room, though twice he had walked 
softly to the bedside and looked at him, he could not 
himself reach that blessed refreshment which he so 
much needed. 

It was not that he was tossed about with conflicting 
opinions, or any uncertainty of purpose. He had faced 


THE LOST FOUND. 


241 


the subject of Blair Rodney from the first with a 
positive, unwavering decision. He knew precisely 
what he ought to do, and what he would do, in regard 
to what Blair had called his rights. In this respect 
he was more fortunate than his wife. Mrs. Rodney 
did not dislike Blair as heartily as the Colonel did, 
and she felt very keenly for her daughter Bertha.. 
She had almost angered her husband by what he 
called her partiality. For, happy as the mother 
was to receive back her son, she could not avoid an 
overwhelming pity for the girl whose prospects were 
so altered by the unforeseen circumstance. 

It was truly an overwhelming affliction to Bertha. 
She had passed, that afternoon, out of the sunshine, 
into a gloom every hour growing blacker. There had 
been for her just one step between joy and despair. 
For she did despair, even in the first few whispered 
words between Blair and herself on the event. It had 
made a change in him even then, sharp and sure as 
that made by a freezing wind passing over tropical 
flowers. Her hopes had met their death. She could 
not lift her heart above this conviction. 

About the middle of the night she tapped at her 
mother's door, and Mrs. Rodney was almost glad to 
escape the enthusiasms of her husband to share the 
pitiful forebodings of her daughter. She took the 
girl in her arms and encouraged her to tell all her 
fear and suffering. And it was characteristic that 
they spoke very low, and controlled themselves, lest 
the servants should divine their pain and misinter¬ 
pret it. 

“ Oh mother, mother ! How can I bear it ?" 

“ I do not think the marriage will be put off, Bertha. 
Blair loves you.” 


242 


A SISl'ER TO ESAU, 


“ He said unless father gave us one thousand 
pounds a year we could not keep up Innergrey. 
Mother, can you persuade father to keep his word ? ” 

“ My dear ! No one has any occasion to persuade 
your father to keep his word ; but in this case, your 
father’s word was dependent on circumstances, which 
every one believed to be absolutely beyond change. 
Yet change has come, and one change must bring many 
others. I will do my best, but about money matters I 
have little knowledge and little influence. But your 
father will do right. I am sure of that.” 

“ Blair thinks Innergrey, and one thousand pounds 
yearly, barely his right. He wants both settled on us 
for life.” 

“ Blair is unreasonable.” 

“ No, no, mother ! Think how much more he has 
been hoping for. Mother, if the wedding is put off I 
shall die of shame. Every one will pity me. I could 
tell you twenty girls who will call to see me in my 
misery and disappointment, who would drive twenty 
miles out of their way rather than call to see me a 
happy wife at Innergrey. I shall be the talk of all the 
country side. Women will make parties to discuss 
my position. They will say ‘ Blair Rodney was glad 
to be rid of me ’—that he would not marry me with¬ 
out the estate—that I have been so proud and con¬ 
ceited, so evidently happy, that they are not sorry for 
me. Men meeting in their fields, or in their houses, 
will pity ‘poor Bertha Rodney ’ and call Blair the bad 
names they call each other—or else they will say, 
‘Blair Rodney was not a bird to be caught with chaff.’ 
Mother, mother, do you not see and feel it all ? And 
the beautiful home I was to have had ! And all 
my pretty dresses ! If I should put one on, some 


THE LOST FOUND. 243 

person would be sure to say, ‘ Poor thing ! that dress 
was bought for the wedding that never came off.*” 

“ My darling ! I see and feel it all with you. But 
I think the home is still yours. And the dresses will 
yet be happily worn. I cannot believe Blair will break 
off the marriage now,*’ 

“You did not see his face last night. He barely 
touched my lips when he left me. His voice was hard 
and cruel.” 

“Then, surely, you do not want to marry a man so 
mercenary and so cruel.** 

“ I do ! I do ! I cannot bear the public pity and 
shame. I would rather bear the private misery. 
Mother, can you not find out some way ? Have you 
no comfort for me ? ” 

“ My dear, is it not some comfort to get back your 
only brother ? ” 

“ No, it is not ! I know nothing about Archibald. 
I was only a baby wherwhe was carried off. I do not 
think he is at all pleasant. He has such strange ways. 
He does not know how to behave. He hardly knows 
how to sit down ; and when he stands, he looks as if he 
was going to order us about like a gang of slaves. He 
is a pagan, too, or very near one.” 

“ Bertha, stop I Archibald will be, in a year or two, 
the finest man in Fifeshire. He has had an Oriental 
training. He is now to be properly educated for his 
position. And oh ! what a loving heart he has ! I 
can tell you a hundred things-” 

“ Do not tell me one of them. If he has a loving 
heart, let him give up something to his sister. I shall 
tell him so in the morning.” 

“ You cannot possibly make him understand the 
position, and your father would never forgive you if 



244 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


you tried to make him understand. I do believe 
Archie would resign everything, but would you break 
your father’s heart and crush the hopes God has 
regiven him ? ” 

“ My heart is breaking! My heart is breaking ! ” 

In such wretched complaining the night passed. 
At the dawn, just when Angus was dismissing his 
friends at the manse gate, Mrs. Rodney declared her¬ 
self no longer able to listen and endure, and Bertha 
promised to try to sleep. But the sleep of both 
women was fitful and broken, and strange and unbid¬ 
den thoughts came alike to them. The mother put 
them angrily away ; the daughter nursed and encour¬ 
aged them. 

“ Why had Archibald come back only to make 
trouble? They had been accustomed to think of him 
as one of the Sons of God—a splendid, angelic youth 
among the host of heaven, doing God’s will. 1 his 
strange, foreign-looking man, reared in the tents of 
Khiva and the colleges of Bokhara—the very Rome 
of Islamism—with the Talmud in his heart, and the 
breath of deserts and wild manhood about him, was a 
contradiction hard to accept.” 

The sister frankly said so. And who but God knew 
the agonies of opposing emotions which the mother 
fought down, tenderly recalled, fought back again, 
till worn out with the heart-conflict she found relief in 
a passionate abandon to tears. She told her husband 
they were tears of joy; she told her heart so; and 
then she remembered Bertha, and wept again and 
again, until she was seriously ill. 

Come ! Let us be honest with ourselves. Is not 
this the most dreadful thing about death, that some 
commonplace being replaces the dear one that was 


THE LOST FOUND. 


245 


once our very life? That meals at stated hours 
and trivial pleasures fill the great void we thought 
never would be filled ? That the beloved has finally 
taken rank with things perfectly indifferent, so that if it 
should be suddenly said, “ He is here ! ” we should be 
more embarrassed than happy. We should not know 
where to place him. Alas ! alas ! for the comfortable 
homes so often built upon the extinction of a great 
love ! Bertha Rodney did not commit a strange or an 
uncommon sin when she wished her brother among 
the angels, and wept because he was alive to his own 
again. 

In his own way, Blair spent an equally miserable 
night. True, he could not be said to lose what he had 
never possessed ; but people do not surrender without 
pain a hope of riches and position so nearly a certainty 
as his hope had been. And he did feel it to be some¬ 
thing of a trial to resign Bertha. He had confided in 
her, gone to her for sympathy, told her all his plans, 
and felt a delicious sense of property in her grace and 
beauty. Something must be done, and done quickly, 
about his affairs; and he was impatient of the extra 
delay caused by the Colonel’s restless night. For it 
was the afternoon ere he was ready to answer Blair’s 
second urgent request for an interview. 

Blair was amazed at the happy father’s appearance, 
for joy is a restorative ; and Colonel Rodney really 
looked as if he had run backward, and brought again 
the lost years which he had spent in weeping for his 
son. He stood up, alert and watchful, with a tinge of 
unusual haughtiness in his manner. 

“ You have sent twice this morningfor an interview, 
Blair. What can I now do for you ?” 

“Sir, the question is unrequired. You must know 


246 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


that my affairs have become urgent. The ground on 
which I was to enter your family has been cut away 
from under my feet. A new basis must be arranged, 
or we must part as soon as possible.” 

“ What basis do you propose ? I have no doubt you 
have considered the position. I must admit I have 
been too excited to do so.” 

“ A moment’s reflection will, however, show you that 
some steps must be taken to prevent the scandal and 
gossip there will be if my marriage is broken off or 
even postponed. I am willing, under the peculiar cir¬ 
cumstances, to resign my claim, and marry your daugh¬ 
ter, for a life interest in Innergrey and one thousand 
pounds yearly to support the place.” 

“ Sir, your ‘claim,’ as you call it, was based upon a 
condition which exists no longer, and which never did 
exist, except through my will. And I will not give you 
one half-penny to marry my daughter. If my daughter 
has set her heart upon marrying you, I will allow her 
the use of Innergrey so long as I live, and I will give 
her two hundred pounds yearly.” 

“You promised us one thousand pounds yearly. 
With my own income, it would have sufficed.” 

“ As heir of Rodney, that sum would have been your 
allowance from my estate. You are no longer heir of 
Rodney. What is your income ? ” 

“ I have only my little farm in Perthshire. You ad¬ 
vised me to lease it. I did so, for one hundred and 
eighty pounds a year.” 

“ And you ask me for Innergrey and a thousand 
pounds ! ” 

‘‘In order that I may support your daughter prop¬ 
erly, sir.” 

“ I can support my daughter on less money, sir. 


THE LOST FOUND. 


247 


You shall not use my daughter to force a shilling from 
me. I have told you what I will do if Bertha wishes 
to become your wife. I will add nothing to it.” 

Then I relinquish my claim upon her hand. I think, 
however, you ought to reimburse me for the expense 
you have put to me, and which 1 can ill afford.” 

“ Explain yourself.” 

“ I sold two valuable horses to provide the clothing, 
etc., necessary to my stay in Rodney. At home, my kilts 
on the heather, and a good stout suit for market and 
kirk, sufficed me. My tailor’s bill in Edinburgh, my 
jeweler’s bill for presents to your daughter, and my 
various personal expenses here, have left me a poor 
man. I think, at least, you should refund these out¬ 
lays.” 

“ Have you made out your bill against me, sir ? ” 

“ I consider, all together, that this wretched business 
has cost me nearly eight hundred pounds.” 

“ I will give you a check for a thousand pounds ” ; 
and the Colonel, quite forgetting his staff, walked with 
a firm and rapid step to his secretary, and wrote the 
potent bit of paper. 

“ Mr. Blair,” he said hotly, “ our business is now com¬ 
pleted. There are many good reasons why you should 
not prolong your stay at Rodney. I trust you will con¬ 
sider them.” 

“I consider your ungentlemanly behavior the best 
reason of all, sir. And I tell you, frankly, I would not 
marry your daughter if you gave me Rodney to do 
it.” 

The Colonel took not the slightest notice of the insult. 
He was arranging some loose papers, and he went on 
with the employment as if Blair were not present. Yet 
he was conscious of an unusual stir in the house, and 


248 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


he thought he heard Scotia’s voice, and was impatient 
to satisfy himself. 

Scotia had indeed arrived, though it was twenty-four 
hours in advance of her promise. Mrs. Rodney cried 
out with delight ; she felt that Scotia’s presence was 
precisely the element needed in the restless, unhappy 
house. If any one could tell what ought to be done, 
and then see that it was done, Scotia was that helper. 
She came home in Lady Yarrow’s coach, having, 
she said, left Edinburgh very early, and posted every 
mile of the way. 

She came in laughing, and talking, and watching 
with an affectation of extreme care a box, which a foot¬ 
man carried. “ Come and see what I have brought!” 
she cried, as her fingers cut the strings of white ribbon 
which bound it; and her fair face bent this way, to kiss 
her mother ; and that way, to kiss her sister. “ Is it 
not lovely? Is it not splendid? I would get married 
only to wear it, Bertha;” and the scented coverings 
being removed the lovely wedding garment was exposed 
to view. 

“ It is your wedding dress, Bertha ! Did you ever 
see such soft, exquisite satin? Such lace? Such a 
veil? Such darling orange blooms and lilies? And 
I have something else for you, dear. Wait till I open 
the case. Aunt Yarrow sent you these diamonds. 
The star is for your hair, and the ring to guard your 
wedding ring, and the locket for your pretty throat— 
Bertha ! Bertha ! Mother ! What is the matter ? ” 

For suddenly Bertha had burst into passionate weep¬ 
ing, and Mrs. Rodney was regarding the treasures with 
a pitiful shake of her head. Then Scotia was aware 
that there was something unusual, strange, revolution¬ 
ary in the house. In her own excitement, in the hurry 


THE LOST FOUND. 


249 


of her happy news and splendid gifts, she had noticed 
nothing. But her mother’s silence and Bertha’s sobs 
startled her into an unhappy intelligence. 

“ What is it, mother? Surely father is not ill ?” 

“Archibald has come back,’’ shrieked Bertha. 
“ And Blair is to be sent away, and my whole life 
ruined. Oh! Oh! What is the use of the dress 
now ? ” 

“ Archibald come back ! Mother, is this true ? Oh, 
how glad I am for father and you ! Where has he 
been ? When did he come ? I want to see him ! 
Do not cry, Bertha. No one will hurt Blair and you.’’ 

It was at this moment Blair entered. He had Colo¬ 
nel Rodney’s check in his pocket, and after a slight 
salutation to Scotia he took Bertha’s hand and led her 
from the room. A few rapid words from Mrs. Rodney 
enabled Scotia to grasp the whole position. She put 
the gems back in her bosom, and covered up the while 
wedding garment, and then said : 

“ Dear mother, this is such a great joy that we may 
well bear the little annoyances that are its shadow. 
Blair has some good qualities ; he will not desert Ber¬ 
tha, and there is really no other reason why the mar¬ 
riage should be delayed. I hear my father coming ! 
How quickly he walks! 

She went into the hall to meet him, and there she 
first saw Archibald. He was standing at the foot of 
the staircase, looking upward to his father. His tall, 
slender form was his father’s form, with the added 
grace of youth and strength ; but his face was the face 
of Scotia, formed in masculine beauty, sunbrowned and 
wind-tanned, crowned and bearded with the same 
beautifully colored hair. 

He heard her open the door ; he turned his gaze upon 


250 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


her. A bright smile parted his lips. He looked in¬ 
quiringly at his father, and understood in a moment 
his father’s face. With an eager manner he advanced 
to meet his sister, and when he caught her eyes, and 
her smile, and her beaming glance of recognition and 
welcome, he cried out, “Yes! You are Scotia! 
Scotia ! “ 

And if the Colonel had missed anything of perfect 
sympathy in his joy, he had it now. Scotia had no 
reservations. She thought of no future contingencies. 
She knew nothing, but that her long lost brother was 
before her. She took his hands, she put her arms 
round his neck, she called him “Brother,” and 
“Archie.” She stroked his hair, and matched it with 
her own ; she kissed him frankly and fondly. And the 
young man was transfigured by her joy and love. He 
looked at his father and then at Scotia, and felt his 
heart glow with that wondrous, protecting, admiring 
affection, which, when it exists between brother and 
sister, is perhaps the strongest, the sweetest, and the 
most unselfish of all family ties. 

Poor Bertha was having a very different interview. 
As yet Blair had not decided in what way he would 
take his revenge. He could leave Bertha to the public 
tongue, and to the cruelties of hope delayed, and final 
desertion ; or he could marry her in spite of old Rod¬ 
ney, take her to his little farm-house, and make her 
taste all the humiliations and sorrows of poverty and 
neglect. He had such confidence in his power over 
the girl that he was sure he had only to make his plan. 
Bertha would carry out her share of it. 

He led her to a sofa and sat down beside her. She 
tried to put off the words he was going to say, and in 
a hurried manner spoke of her wedding dress and the 


THE LOST FOUND, 251 

diamonds her aunt had sent her. He listened with a 
dark, impatient face. 

“What is the use of fine clothes, Bertha? Your 
father will not give us any money, and I have nothing 
to support a wife on.” 

“Will Father do nothing?” 

“Two hundred pounds a year! What is that? It 
would not pay the servants necessary to keep Innergrey 
in order.” 

“ We do not require many servants, Blair. I can 
do a great deal, and you could attend-” 

“ Bertha, I told your father I could not marry you 
with less than a thousand pounds a year, and he was 
rude beyond endurance. He has virtually requested 
me to leave the house. My little girl, we have no hope 
to cling to ! Our marriage must be put off.” 

“ For how long ?” 

“ Are you afraid of poverty ? ” 

“ I never was poor.” 

“ Could you milk cows, and make butter, and bake, 
and clean ?” 

“ I do not know. For you, Blair, I could try to do 
many things.” 

“ Listen, then ! I will write regularly to you. As 
soon as I can rent a home, will you come to it ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Even if your father and mother forbid you ?” 

How, then ? Where could we be married ?” 

“ You must run away with me. I would have the 
ring in my pocket, and the minister waiting, and we 
could be man and wife before you were missed.” 

“But I could have no bridemaids—and other 
things ! ” 

“ No.” 



252 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


He said the little syllable curtly, with a certain 
pleasure in all it denied ; and Bertha wept more and 
more. He took her in his arms and kissed her with 
many fond words and vows. He felt that he must 
rivet the bonds he had put on her as firmly as possible, 
and he really was touched in a selfish way by the pallor 
and wretchedness of her face, by her clinging to him, i 
by her entreaties and sorrowful complaining. But he 
was not a man to bear too much of such a trying 
scene. In less than an hour he had left Rodney 
without a farewell to any one but Bertha, and his last 
words to her were a reminder of the address to which 
his personal belongings were to be sent. 

Fortunately, Scotia had a presentiment—a feeling— 
that he was not in the house, and she went to seek her 
sister. She found the miserable girl weeping on the 
sofa where Blair had left her, and she knelt by her 
side, and with words of truest sympathy entreated 
Bertha to rely upon her love, and tell her just what 
she wished done. 

“Send word to everyone invited to the wedding 
that there will be no wedding.” 

“ Dear Bertha, are you sure ?” 

“Quite sure. Father will not give us one thousand 
pounds a year. He might have done it, I think.” 

“ Do you need so much, Bertha ? ” 

“ Blair does—if he marries. He said something 
about making a little home for me. But I hate little 
homes, and if I have to endure the shame of this 
broken-off marriage, I do not mind if I never see him 
again. He is a coward, Scotia ! He goes away to 
Perthshire and leaves me—and all of us—to bear the 
disgrace alone.” 

“ There is no disgrace—to us.” 


THE LOST FOUND, 


353 


People will talk.” 

“ Let them talk. Bertha, dear, wash your face and 
come into the parlor. Father and mother are so happy, 
and Archibald, too. Is he not charming ? ” 

“ I think he is ugly and disagreeable. I am sure I 
shall never love him.” 

“ I am very sure you will. He is our own, own 
brother. Blair is unworthy to buckle his shoes. Come, 
dear ! There are plenty of good days in store for you, 
and some far grander lover. I would not let even the 
servants know you were fretting. And in a few days 
the Cupar girls, and lots of your dear familiar friends, 
will be lifting up their heel—or their tongues—against 
you. You will have to face them, Bertha. Yes, you 
must do it, dear. We will all help you. And you have a 
brother now. That makes a deal of difference. Arch¬ 
ibald is not to be offended, you know. He is a pos¬ 
sible husband. Girls with marriageable brothers have 
one great privilege—other girls like them, so much.” 

“Julia Cupar always flirted with Blair. She has a 
thousand pounds a year; perhaps Blair may seek her 
now.” 

“ 1 should not wonder. Then you can ask her ‘ how 
your old shoes fit her feet ? ’ Only be brave, Bertha, 
and we shall get more mirth than sorrow out of this 
disappointment.” 

“ My lovely dress ! ” 

“ Yes, it is lovely. And the diamonds ! Was it not 
kind of Aunt Yarrow ? We will put the dress and the 
diamonds away. I am sure you will need them for a 
better lord. Come and show father what a brave girl 
he has ! Show him that you think more of his joy 
than of your own sorrow. How pretty you are, Ber¬ 
tha ! Come, dear, you can make father and mother 


254 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


so happy, and I think you ought to tell father what 
Blair said, and talk over what is best to be done with 
him and mother. It will make all things so much 
easier.” 

Bertha had had her cry out, and she was ready for 
good advice. After all, it was more comfortable to 
suffer in company. She found her father’s kiss, and 
her mother’s whispered words of pity and encourage¬ 
ment very comforting. It did her good to talk over 
the affair, to say what she wished done, to assist in the 
composition of the formal note to be sent next day to 
all who had been invited to the wedding feast. 

Evening brought Angus Bruce. 'I'he Colonel 
watched Scotia very closely. Her behavior was satis¬ 
factory. She was neither too cold, nor too shy, nor 
too friendly with the minister. They met as if they 
had seen each other every day. And indeed this was 
very nearly the case, as it regarded the past two 
weeks. For Scotia had been in Edinburgh for that 
time, though at the moment the Colonel had forgotten 
the circumstance. When she referred to it at the 
dinner table, the Colonel was a little astonislied. “I 
have been so used to placing you in London,” he said ; 
“and I thought Lady Yarrow was going to Yarrow Bell 
when she left London.” 

“ She intended doing so, Father ; but as the time 
for the meeting of the General Assembly drew near, 
she grew more and more excited about it. What was 
to happen on the 19th of May haunted her constantly, 
and so we left for Edinburgh on the 15th.” 

“ Nothing happened but what every sensible man 
and woman had foreseen would happen.” 

“ Yes, but it was something to be witness to it. I 
would not have missed the experience for a year of 
ordinary life.” 


THE LOST FOUND. 


255 


But you were not in the Assembly Hall ? ” 

“Yet we saw a great deal those in the hall did not 
see. I must tell you first, we rode some hours through 
the streets of Edinburgh the night previous to the 
great meeting. What crowds were in them ! What 
earnest, solemn crowds ! You would have thought 
the city on the verge of some tremendous calamity. 
And the ministers going from group to group made a 
very picturesque element in the scene. I saw one 
minister on Prince’s Street standing bareheaded on a 
flight of steps, talking to a crowd that he moved, as 
ripe barley is moved by a breath of wind. His voice 
stirred the people like a trumpet. And Lady Yarrow 
said very proudly to several gentlemen who spoke to 
her, * That is my adopted son.’ Mrs. Bruce was too 
happy to speak at all.” 

She bowed to Bruce, and smiled with the pleasure 
of her recollection, and before the Colonel could make 
any remark continued : 

“ We—that is, Mrs. Bruce, Lady Yarrow, and my¬ 
self—succeeded in getting our carriage near the 
entrance to the hall next day, and there we waited. 
Some said, ‘ The ministers will come out.’ Others said, 
‘ It is easy to talk ; but when men have wives and 
bairns, not so easy to give up kirk and manse.’ The 
big city was still as if it was the Sabbath ; as the 
moments went on, you could feel the strained, anxious 
element in the air. I thought at last I must shriek 
aloud. Then there was the sound of footsteps, and 
Dr. Welsh and Dr. Chalmers came out ; then the long^ 
solemn, orderly procession of four hundred ministers 
in their gowns and bands, and over five hundred 
ciders. A great shout welcomed them. It was taken 
up, and ran from street to street like thunder. Some 


256 


A SIS7'ER TO ESAU. 


one among the elders cried “ Hush ! ” and a silence 
as deep and sudden followed. Men lifted their hats 
and stood bareheaded as the noble army of Protestors 
passed them ; and I saw that every one was weeping. 
We were weeping also, but none of us knew it. The 
gladdest smile was on Mrs. Bruce’s face, and Lady 
Yarrow’s face echoed it. At the same moment they 
caught sight of Mr. Bruce among the ministers, and 
both at the same moment cried ‘ There is our son ! 
God bless him ! ’ Mr. Bruce, how happy you must 
have been that day ! ” 

This was the first description the Colonel had heard 
of the great event, and Mr. Bruce supplemented it 
with the facts already told to the elders of his kirk. 
The conversation was a very interesting one. It was 
then a living, burning question. Even Bertha forgot 
her private wrongs and sorrows in it—that is, she was 
lifted by the enthusiasm it created into a higher 
atmosphere than mere selfish cares could enter. 
Archibald understood nothing of it, but he played 
chess with Scotia, and tasted with the freshness of a 
child, and the feeling of a man, the delicious sense of 
home and kindred ; the strength and the sweetness of 
his father’s and his mother’s love. 


XV. 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 

’Tis strange to think if we could fling aside 
The mask and mantle that Love wears from pride, 
How much would be we now so little guess. 

The careless smile like a gay banner borne, 

The laugh of merriment, the lip of scorn ; 

And for a cloak what is there that can be 
So difficult to pierce as gayety ? 


—Z. £. Z. 


“ What can we do o’er whom the unbeholden 
Hangs in a night wherewith we dare not cope ? 

What but look sunward and with faces golden 
Speak to each other softly of our hope ? ” 

OTHING is so pleasant to men as to talk of the 



^ affairs of their neighbors, and plenty of people 
in the very best society find all amusements short¬ 
lived but that of watching the failures and faults of 
their friends and comparing them with their own suc¬ 
cesses and virtues. The broken-off marriage between 
Bertha and Blair Rodney occupied this class pleasantly 
for many days. 

It was the more delightful to discuss because it 
offered points for distinct opinions. Those inclined 
to take Bertha’s side, were sure she had refused to 
marry because Blair had ceased to be socially her 
equal. They had been told that Blair Rodney was 
only an ordinary Perthshire farmer, and they suddenly 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


258 

discovered that they had always thought him vulgar. 
Those inclined to sympathize with Blair, approved of 
his decision in giving up a wife who had lost the 
power to advance him to the head of an old county 
family. “Bertha had no other desirable quality,” 
they said, and many professed to understand how far 
Blair might indeed welcome his freedom, though it did 
send him back to poverty. 

Through this trying ordeal Bertha carried herself 
with great wisdom. She did not shirk a single caller, 
and her calm manner allowed them no just opportunity 
to offer her condolence. She had her usual pleasant 
smile, and her dress was a combination of the fine 
arts. No one had any right to suppose a girl was suf¬ 
fering from either pain or mortification, who always 
looked as fresh as morning-glorys look before twelve 
o’clock. 

With mere acquaintances she exchanged those inno¬ 
cent platitudes which are the loose coins of society ; 
to the Cupar and Braithness girls—with whom she had 
been on terms of intimacy—she allowed herself little 
suggestive confidences : 

“ She was sorry for poor Blair Rodney, but the res¬ 
toration of her dear, darling brother had made the 
world very different to them all. Of course it was 
impossible for her to marry Blair in his present posi¬ 
tion. He was very poor, and she was such a luxurious 
little body. Her father thought it would be a mistake 
for both of them to marry, and her father was always 
right.” And on one or two occasions, she alluded 
with a long sigh to Sir Thomas Carr, and gave the 
girls to understand that her heart was with her old 
lover, and that she was not unhappy to be free. How¬ 
ever, all suggestions were so cleverly and so modestly 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, 


259 


made, that many who came to Rodney to pay off old 
scores of contempt found themselves unable to say a 
disagreeable word. Really, it is hard to snub a per¬ 
fectly dressed woman, who has a sweet non-committal 
smile always ready, and the general public felt them¬ 
selves to be almost defrauded out of a legitimate 
retaliation. 

Indeed, the noble restraint with which Bertha car¬ 
ried herself during these days caused her to receive 
less consideration than she might otherwise have had. 
Those who want sympathy must demand it; Bertha 
made no such claim. She had ^ pride that stood her 
very well in place of stronger ^alities. The Colonel, 
who always judged from app^rances, said to his wife, 
he thought Bertha was glad to be rid of Blair, and 
he respected her for the feeling. Scotia thought her 
sister suffered mostly from the dread of public opinion, 
and she found her so well able to manage it that her 
sympathy appeared superfluous. Mrs. Rodney judged 
her daughter more justly, and it was to her, only, 
Bertha abandoned her well-assumed indifference. 
She knew all the girl’s longing and heartache, her 
sense of wrong and insult ; her weary bondage to the 
claims of the unfeeling, curious world ; her sharp dis¬ 
appointment in loosing husband and home, the posi¬ 
tion and hopes, which had been so nearly hers. 

As for the Colonel, one side of the question seemed 
to him a sufficient answer to all who named the circum¬ 
stance, “ A son is a very different thing from a son- 
in-law where you have house, and land, and an ancient 
name to transmit.” It was an incontrovertible posi¬ 
tion ; and every man with a landed estate felt it to 
be so. 

And the son, though not exactly after the Fife pat- 


26 o 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


tern, was a very fine fellow. He managed a horse and 
used a gun as Turkomans can ride and shoot ; and 
these were accomplishments easily understood. But 
nothing could induce him to learn to dance. Dancing 
was the business of women, and he looked wdth as¬ 
tonishment and contempt on all masculine exhibitions 
of bobbing about and turning around. There was 
very little hope that the heir of Rodney would be 
turned into a ball-room partner. 

The first event of importance which happened as a 
sequence to the two great events of Archibald’s res¬ 
toration and Blair’s deposition, was a letter from Lady 
Yarrow. It was a generous, noble letter, ignoring 
everything past, rejoicing in the household joy, and 
refusing to see in any event consequent, the least 
cause for regret. It was, finally, a proposition to rent 
Innergrey, with all its furniture, for a term of three 
years. The price offered was munificent, and the 
Colonel was assured that the house and grounds 
would be kept in perfect order. 

“ In fact,” she said, “ I purpose to make it the home 
of my adopted son ; and I shall send there two women 
to look after his comfort, and a man to take charge 
of the garden. Whatever other help is required can 
be procured on the spot.” She then signified her de¬ 
sire to assist in the building of a free kirk for Bruce 
and his people. She had understood the Colonel fa¬ 
vored the views of these dissenters, and that he was 
willing to give a piece of land for the building of a 
place of worship. If so, she would give three hundred 
pounds to help forward the immediate labor. 

This letter gave the Colonel great relief. In 
meeting so promptly and so extravagantly the claim 
of Blair Rodney for eight hundred pounds, he had 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, 


261 


been actuated by a reckless pride which had caused 
him afterward much anxiety. The check for one 
thousand pounds represented nearly all his ready 
cash ; for the repairing and furnishing of Innergrey 
had cost far more than his original intention ; while 
the expenses attending Bertha’s outfit and the wed¬ 
ding arrangements had magnified his indebtedness to 
an alarming extent. Lady Yarrow’s offer was a god¬ 
send. He accepted it as such, with cordiality and 
thanks; and it was with real delight he thought 
of the minister as the tenant of the dower house. 
Bruce’s books and belongings were speedily carried 
there, and other arrangements grew naturally out of 
this one. 

In the first place, it was just a pleasant walk from 
Rodney, and it was arranged for Archibald to study 
with Bruce there, under very favorable conditions. 
And while the Colonel was sitting watching Bruce 
arrange his library, they fell into conversation about 
the new kirk; and a piece of land, admirably situated 
to accommodate three villages, was given by the Colo¬ 
nel for the purpose. In the mean time the large 
granary at Innergrey was to be fitted with benches, 
and used as a place of worship. 

And no emotion retains long its first agitation. 
Life, however disarranged, soon accommodates itself 
to fresh conditions. In a month Archibald was as 
much at home as if he had grown up under Rodney 
roof. Bertha’s disappointment—ignored from the 
first—was now seldom spoken of. It was a dead issue. 
Blair had gone out of their lives without protest, and 
with very little regret. No letter came from him. 
The Colonel never expected one, but Bertha for some 
weeks looked with strained and anxious eyes at every 


262 


A SISTER 7V ESAU, 


mail. Sometimes the sense of cruel forgetfulness was 
too much to endure long in public. She would sew 
for a few minutes, every moment growing paler, and 
then with a pitiful smile make some trifling excuse for 
leaving the room. But even Bertha was forgetting, and 
one hot day in July she had a visitor who quite cured 
her. 

It was Julia Cupar. She rode over to see Bertha 
specially, and after she had removed her habit, and 
was comfortably sipping a cold raspberry cream in 
Bertha’s room, she said so. 

“ Bertha Rodney, I have come to tell you something 
that may do you good. Blair Rodney paid me a visit 
last night.” 

“ I am not astonished, Julia. Is he in love with you 
now ? ” 

“ He is in love with my money, and he offered to 
marry it ;—he called it me.” 

“ Did you accept the offer ? ” 

No ; and he had the bad taste to remind me that 
I had once given him to see he was agreeable to me.” 

“ Oh ! but perhaps you did—just a little, Julia.” 

“ Perhaps ; but, as I reminded him, a common farmer 
and the heir of Rodney were two different persons. 
He said, ‘ He was astonished at my mercenary dis¬ 
position.’ I said he ought to understand it, as it re¬ 
sembled his own. He had the further bad taste to 
remind me, that ‘ Grandfather Cupar made his money 
in trade and that the Rodneys ‘were a terribly old 
family,’ I said I heard their origin was depicted on 
the zodiac of Dendera. He said, ‘ They were as noble 
as they were ancient, all of them, saints or heroes.’ 
I agreed with him. I said our blessed Saint Andrew 
might have married into the Rodney family without 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 


263 


fear of a mesalliance. Then he saw I was joking, and 
he got angry, and blurted out uncomplimentary things 
concerning women in general. And upon my word, 
Bertha, I am astonished you ever could bring your¬ 
self to think of Blair Rodney! ” 

“ When one has a dear father, Julia, one does a great 
deal to please him. But Blair was different from Sir 
d'homas ! ” 

“ I should say so. He looked poor, and he said he 
was going into the army. I had a good mind to sing 
him a verse of one of his own favorite songs. That I 
did not is a proof of my natural noble nature. Do 
you know which I mean ? ” and she began to hum 
merrily: 

“When a man is like me 
A bankrupt in purse, 

And in character worse, 

With shocking bad clothes, 

And his credit at zero. 

What on earth can he hope 
To become—but a hero ? 

Bertha, let us talk Blair Rodney well over. That is 
why I came here to-day. You have suffered, I know, 
though you have behaved like an angel. You ought 
to forget the man ever lived, and the best way to pull 
him out of your heart by the roots is to talk him 
over.” 

So they talked Blair Rodney over till the sun went 
down ; and when Julia Cupar turned in her saddle to 
say a last “ good-by,” Bertha Rodney was all herself 
again. She had quite accepted Julia's conception of 
life—that there was notliing worth crying about in 
it; and that as a general rule, life ought to mean get¬ 
ting all one can out of everybody. 


204 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


July and August slipped away in sunshine and 
happy companionship. Archibald and Bruce were 
much together, and very often the Colonel and his 
two daughters walked over to Innergrey and brought 
both men back to supper. The sub rosa condition of 
their love troubled neither Bruce nor Scotia. It was, 
indeed, the occasion of much purely personal and 
private bliss. What so sharp as a lover’s eye ? Bruce 
could say all he wished to Scotia, and Scotia answer 
him, and yet both escape the espionage of Bertha’s 
innocent-looking orbs. And true love never yet 
wanted spoken words to translate itself. It has sub¬ 
tler and sweeter language. Bertha could not discover 
the real position of Scotia and Bruce—the Colonel 
did not trouble himself about what was not apparent. 

Toward the end of September there came another 
change, consequent on Archibald’s return. It was 
found that the climate was telling severely on one 
used to the dry, arid heat of Cer.tral Asia. Warmer 
sunshine was imperative, and, as European travel was 
intended to form part of his education, the Colonel de¬ 
cided to go with his son to France and Italy until the 
spring. As a tutor was to accompany Archibald, Mrs. 
Rodney could see no reason in the Colonel expatriating 
himself; but the two men had become inseparable. 
The son clung to his father ; the father would not be 
parted from his son. 

Arrangements for this journey had to be somewhat 
hurriedly made, and it did not seem the right time, 
either to Scotia or Bruce, for pressing their love and 
future upon the Colonel’s attention. Indeed, the 
father’s plea for one year’s silence on the subject, and 
Bruce’s acceptance of the condition, was a bond hardly 
broken by the lapse of the marriage that was then 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 


265 


under contract. In fact, Colonel Rodney was so oc¬ 
cupied with the training of his son, he entered into this 
subject with such enthusiasm, he considered it of such 
vital, preponderating importance, that he was not pre¬ 
pared to consider properly any other subject. 

Yet neither did he quite forget. The very reticence of 
Bruce, the pleasant interest of Scotia in his journey and 
all concerning it touched and pleased him. The night 
before his departure he went alone to Innergrey. It was 
dusk when he left Rodney. Callers had detained him 
to the last moment, but he had made a determination, 
and he disliked to be disappointed. Scotia wished to 
go with him. He declined her offer. He had a 
word or two to say to the minister, he said. He 
would ride there and back in half an hour. 

He left the carriage at the lower gate. He wished 
to consider his words as he walked slowly through the 
quiet garden. At the house no one was visible. The 
work of the day was done, the servants were doubtless 
eating their supper in the kitchen. But the main door 
was open, and he went into a parlor. The book Bruce 
had been reading lay upon a table by the raised 
window. His hat was beside it. The gray light, 
the handsome, comfortable room were restful and in¬ 
viting. Bruce could not be far away—his hat an¬ 
swered for his presence. 

So the Colonel .sat down to wait for him. Then 
through the stillness there came a sound that never 
can be mistaken—the sound of some one praying. 
The low, pleading accents penetrated the house. 
When a man speaks to God, there is something in his 
voice nothing on earth can counterfeit. The Colonel 
bowed his head in his hands and sat still. He soon 
heard a slow footfall upon the stairs, and Bruce came 


266 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


into the room. In the dim light, with the influence 
of his solemn communion around him, he made al¬ 
most a supernatural impresssion. His slight, black- 
clothed figure was but a darker shadow ; but on his 
pale, rapt face there was a light, 

' A light that never was on sea nor land. 

He was surprised to see the Colonel, and it required 
an effort to express himself. Indeed, it was some 
moments ere he could seem interested and enter into 
conversation. But Rodney was a good man; he under¬ 
stood the mood and waited. 

“ I am going away in the morning, Mr. Bruce. I 
shall not return until spring. I thought you would 
have come over to Rodney House to-night.” 

“I knew there must be many things to do at the 
last. We said ‘good-by’ yesterday.” 

“ I have still something to say. I feel very anxious. 
It is easy to leave home, but however short a visit 
may be, there is a change when we return. If I 
never return, what can 1 expect from your friend¬ 
ship?” 

“ Everything you wish.” 

“ You love Scotia ? ” 

“ You know I do.” 

“I leave Scotia, and Scotia’s mother and sister in 
your care. See them every day, if possible. Women 
need many things that paid service cannot do for 
them. The journey that is a pleasure to my son is a 
great trial to me. The old should stay at home.” 

“ Why go ? You have procured a good tutor.” 

“ I cannot let Archie leave me. The tutor is a 
stranger. It is my duty to watch Archie ; he is but a 
child in our ways.” 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, 


267 


“ You go first to southern France ?’' 

“Yes. The doctors say we shall have a sunny, 
warm climate there ; but I shall long for the glints 
and glooms of rainy, blowy Fife. 1 keep saying 
already : 

The sun rises.bright in France, and fair sets he ; 

But he ha^'^t the blythe blink he had in my ain countree.” 

“You go to Rome about the New Year, Mrs. 
Rodney told me.” 

“ Just so. Mr. Bruce, I tremble when I think of the 
journey. Yet I feel it a duty not to be put aside. 
Oh, if one might only see the end from the begin¬ 
ning ! 

“ My friend, it is better to say 

I do not ask to see 

The distant scene ; one step, enough for me 1 ” 

“ Thank you, it is enough.” 

So the men parted without more words, but with 
the greatest trust in each other. 

It was not long ere Rodney House arranged itself 
to its new conditions. The quick approach of winter 
aided the quiet and seclusion which fell upon the 
lately gay household. The Cupars, the Braithness 
family, and several others of the near neighbors to 
Rodney went to Edinburgh or London for the season. 
Bertha was glad of any excuse to remain in seclusion 
for a little. Scotia found, in her daily walks, and in the 
society of Angus, all .she desired to brighten her pres¬ 
ent life. Mrs. Rodney watched the mails for her 
hu.sband’s letters more anxiously than a maiden for 
her lover’s. Her heart was full of plans and dreams 
for her children’s future. She had already forgotten 
the failure of those built upon Blair Rodney. And 


268 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


after Julia Cupar’s confession, even Bertha’s remem¬ 
brance had in it neither hope nor respect. It was a 
point of honor and kindness with all the household to 
make Blair Rodney as if he had never been. 

Scotia’s engagement to Angus Bruce, if understood 
by Mrs. Rodney, was not alluded to. It might be a 
kindly delicacy toward Bertha which caused her 
reticence. An engaged daughter has in her home 
privileges and considerations no one cared to make 
obvious to Bertha. The subject of marriage was a 
generally ignored one. Callers were cleverly led 
away from it, and if Lady Yarrow described any 
wedding in her letters, Scotia read everything aloud 
but that description. 

It was not possible, however, to keep Bertha happy 
by any such precautions. A lover would have been 
much more to the purpose. Bertha missed greatly 
that closely personal happiness which springs from a 
companionship no other being has a right to invade. 
She soon began to consider the minister as a suitable 
person to take Blair’s place. Indeed, he appeared to 
her as an almost natural successor. 

He was occupying the home prepared for her. He 
must remember this fact many a time as he sat alone 
in its comfort and beauty. She had planned that 
comfort and beauty, and watched its growth to per¬ 
fection. All the details of the house and garden de¬ 
clared her neat, dainty, methodical tastes. If Angus 
Bruce had any sense of justice, Bertha was sure he 
must sooner or later recognize her claim. 

And when a girl reasons with herself, for herself, 
her wishes are very likely to be the only conclusions 
she reaches. Bertha wished to be mistress of Inner- 
grey, and she felt that she ought to be there. The 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 269 

house had been given for her use ; it had been furnished 
for her as she desired ; she soon taught herself to 
believe that she had a right in it which Bruce could 
not be oblivious to. From this position to Bruce 
personally was an easy deduction. She began senti¬ 
mentally to consider him as her first love. And she 
had represented Blair so often to strangers as the 
husband of her father’s selection, that she had finally 
come to believe herself the victim of the family inter¬ 
ests. Lef' entirely free, she was certain that her 
choice would have fallen upon Angus Bruce. The 
quiet house md monotonous life provoked such 
dreams and such unreal hopes, a the absence of all 
opposing elements led he r to feel that she had but to 
make some plan, and then carry it out to the end she 
wished. 

It was evident, even to her self-satisfied estimate, that 
Bruce paid Scotia much attention. She ^aw that if 
Scotia went to walk she was as sure to meet Bruce as 
if the meeting had been arranged. But Scotia had a 
very clear idea of Bruce’s general movements ; there 
were not many walks available in winter weather ; and 
moreover, it was very likely if she took walks Angus 
would also make her his companion. She could easily 
have put this likelihood to the test, but she preferred 
to keep the comfort of its indecision. 

Neither could she avoid noticing that between Sco¬ 
tia and Angus there was that manner of confidence 
and unrestraint which is the result of perfect under¬ 
standing. But even if there was an engagement, en¬ 
gagements were not marriages, as she herself well 
knew. And she had no definite reason to suppose 
there was an engagement. Scotia had told her nothing 
of the kind. It had not been acknowledged in the 


270 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


family. She had, therefore, every right to suppose 
Angus Bruce to be free as herself, every right to induce 
him to take the step so evidently his duty, and make 
her mistress of her own house. She felt, also, tliat 
she could love Angus as she had never loved Blair. 
And then, the joy and triumph there would be in 
showing Blair that she had gone to Innergrey after 
all ! The idea grew in her little selfish mind every 
hour. It took possession of her. She was deter¬ 
mined to make it succeed. 

The failure of her previous matrimonial plans taught 
her no good lesson. That they had been unsuccessful 
was no fault of hers. Indeed, she reminded herself that 
if her marriage to Blair Rodney had taken place—as 
she desired—at the New Year, Innergrey and the 
annual income of a thousand pounds would have 
been theirs ; and the return of Archibald could not 
have affected her settlement so far. 

“ This time I shall keep my own counsel and carry 
out my own ideas,” was her private decision. “ If I 
tell mother, or Scotia, they will immediately begin to 
consider how my plans will affect the whole family. 
I am determined to marry Angus Bruce, and I will 
hesitate at nothing that promises me success. Sup¬ 
pose I have to disappoint Scotia a little ! I have 
been disappointed ! Scotia is good-natured ; she will 
forgive me as soon as I say I am sorry. And if An¬ 
gus finds me out, I will tell him I did whatever I may 
have to do, because I was so much in love with him. 
He would be a brute not to accept that apology.” 

As yet she had no plan which promised success. 
But she was in that receptive mood for evil which 
germinates evil ; and so brought herself into sympa¬ 
thetic relation with some power whose foresight and in- 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 


271 


telligence in sin was beyond mortal capacity. This 
coadjutor whom she called to herself was not long in 
finding out a way. And when such influences are at 
work, there is often a circumstantial preparation and 
assistance that appears miraculous. So that when a 
mortal man or woman is planning wickedness, and a 
singular success attends their movements, they may 
well pause and pray to be delivered from the dread 
guilt of premeditated sin,and the after-wages of its suc¬ 
cess. 

The very day after she had abandoned all reserva¬ 
tions and regrets, a series of events began to happen 
which fitted themselves exactly to the animus of her 
desires. It was a beautiful day in March ; a little 
frosty, but the sky was blue, and the robins hopped 
about the bare shrubs as merrily as if it was already 
spring. The ground had a crisp feeling that made 
walking delightful, and Scotia, accompanied by Angus, 
left Rodney after lunch for a long afternoon walk. 

Scotia looked lovely in her furs and winter wraps, 
and her hands folded in her muff as she walked 
by Bruce’s side gave her an independent air which 
was charming. The robins, whom she constantly fed, 
fluttered around ; admiring her in little songs of de¬ 
light that had an intelligible significance, very near 
to articulation ; and Scotia irritated Angus first, by 
keeping him waiting while she went back for crumbs, 
and scattered them for the pretty brown, red-breasted 
pets. He felt as if they had been put before him, 
their pleasure considered first, and he was not molli¬ 
fied by her arch smile in his face, nor yet by her 
apology : 

“ These, Angus, are the summer birds,” she said, 
That ever in the haunch of winter sing. 


272 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


They are never tired, and they are never terrified ; 
and no bird of prey will touch them. If I had not 
been a woman, I should like to have been a robin 
red-breast.” 

Bruce heard her innocent prattle almost with anger. 
He was in one of those moods when all trifling had a 
childish, unreasonable meaning. He had just come 
from the preparation of his sermons—he had been 
dealing with the subject of immortal souls, and their 
tremendous travail and destiny ; and how could he 
patiently hear the woman, who was to be his wife, 
almost desiring to be a bird without an immortal 
soul ? 

He said so in a kind and yet in an irritating man¬ 
ner, for words do not always lose the spirit of their 
origin in soft speech; and Scotia answered him with 
the decision which springs from positive predelictions 
or pet theories. 

“ How do you know, Angus, that birds have no 
souls ? Who has said so ? Before the flood, birds 
were classed as clean and unclean ; and the omens of 
the dove and the raven looked for. Elijalu^^s 
saved by the ministry of the birds. Ephre'r^^^md 
Syrian says, ‘Where birds are, there angels are.* 
Birds are the powers of the air ; nowhere can we get 
away from them, and doubtless they possess a great 
knowledge of human affairs. There are good birds 
and bad birds, just as there are good and bad men. 
Birds know many things we do not know. They 
would tell us them if we had intelligence enough to 
understand.” 

Angus laughed, but it was not a pleasant laugh. 

“ You have said these things before,” he answered. 
“But, Scotia, you cannot mean to say that birds are 
prophets ; that they have intelligence? ” 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, 


273 


I think they are as likely to be prophets as men 
are. The great thinkers of the ancient world believed 
in them. We have learned many human languages 
and perhaps forgotten some forms of communica¬ 
tion, far nearer to the speech of heaven. Are you 
wiser than Sophocles, who makes CEdipus say, ‘If you 
have received any information from the prophetic birds, 
divulge it to me ’ ; than Aristophanes, who makes 
one congratulate himself because ‘ nobody knows of his 
treasure, except, indeed, some bird ?' Many a thought, 
many a presentiment, many a conviction about our 
own affairs comes to us, and we know not how. Per¬ 
haps when we say ‘ a little bird told me,’ we are not 
wrong.” 

“ I think, Scotia, that as a minister of a holy God, I 
may lawfully claim to have more wisdom than two 
pagan play-writers. And I do not like this way you 
have of arguing and quoting from those old pagans.” 

“ Saint Paul often quotes from the same authori¬ 
ties.” 

She was now a little offended, and she accused 
Saint Paul with the air of one who is glad to bring a 
mutual friend into like condemnation. 

“ You know too much, and too little, Scotia. That 
is the fault with all clever women.” 

“ Indeed, I have seen clever men of the same kind.” 

Then they walked on in silence, until they came to 
the old manse. Adam was leaning on the garden 
gate. Adam, out of simple contradiction to the village 
in general, and to Grizel in particular, had, when the 
hour for decision came, decided to remain with the 
Established Kirk. Angus stopped and spoke to him: 

“ How are you, Adam ? ” 

“ I might be waur, sir. I might be dying, as they 
say the minister at Pittenleekie is.” 


274 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 




“ Dr. Buchan dying ? 

“ 'Tis said sae. I dinna think it. He was aye 
preaching aboot heaven, but he’ll never gae to heaven, 
sae lang as he can get stopping at Pittenleekie.” 

Angus went forward without answering him, and 
the old man laughed softly to himself : “ I gied him a 
poke in his ain conscience. I’ll warrant! Sae setten 
up as these young ministers are ! And the laird’s 
daughter linking beside him—Rodney’s eldest lass, 
and nae less to suit his reverence ! I did weel, to gie 
him a salt word.” 

Perhaps Angus felt the ill-nature that pursued him. 
People with souls do feel much that has no voice. 
He was angry in his heart, and said, “ Adam examines 
every one’s title to heaven but his own.” 

Scotia pondered the words a few minutes, and then 
answered, “ Heaven ! We all say the word glibly 
enough. Who knows anything about it ? Will it be 
at all like what we imagine ? 

For still the doiibt comes back—can God provide 
For the large heart of man what shall not pall ? 

Nor through eternal ages’ endless tide 
On weary spirits fall ? 

You need not look angry, Angus; it is an archbishop 
asks the question.” 

“ Be fair, Scotia, and give the rest— 

These make him say, If God has so arrayed 
A fading world, that quickly passes by ; 

Such rich provision of delight has made . 

For every human eye. 

What shall the eyes that wait for Him survey ? 

When His own presence gloriously appears, 

In worlds that were not founded for a day, 

But for eternal years? 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE: 


275 


AVe know that ‘ we shall be satisfied.’ We nave the 
glorious promises of the Apocalypse—the multitude 
no man can number singing the new song—the 
Seraphim who continually do cry ‘ Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! 
Lord God of Sabaoth ! ’ ” 

His face was rapt and solemn, and usually it would 
have silenced Scotia, but she was possibly under an 
influence beyond her knowledge and control. A 
spirit of contradiction, a positive pleasure in seeing 
how far she could oppose Angus, actuated her, and 
she demurred at once to his decision. 

“ That is not my conception of heaven, Angus. I 
think it is a place where those we love will always be^ 
with us and never misconceive us—a place of glorious 
work to do and of adequate faculties to do it. A 
world of solved problems, of realized ideals, of new 
ideas ; a place where we shall learn the secrets of 
space, the wonders of the stars, and of the regions 
beyond the stars ; a book of knowledge with eternal 
leaves, and unbounded faculties to read and under¬ 
stand it— 

For it is past belief that Christ hath died, 

Only that we unending psalms may sing : 

That all the gain Death’s awful curtains hide 
Is this eternity of anthemning.” 

** Scotia, you presume very far. We have no author¬ 
ity for your imaginations. As my promised w’ife, I 
have a right to expect you to agree with me. I do 
expect it. I may as well tell you that I felt very 
keenly your remarks about my prayer the other 
night.” 

“ Your prayer, Angus ? ” 

“Yes. If you remember, we had been talking, 
before the exercise, of those Mohammedan colleges 


276 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


in which Archibald had been educated, and I natur¬ 
ally prayed for the extinction of the creed of the False 
Vrophet. Have you forgotten what comment you 
made on my prayer ?" 

“ No, for it was not mere comment. It was a fixed 
opinion. I do think you could find better sub 
jects for prayer than the overthrow of the creeds of 
five-sixths of the human race. Are we the best 
judges of times and seasons.? Is Calvinism so ex¬ 
quisite an embodiment of truth that the whole world 
slioLild be miraculously converted to it? The essence 
of prayer, as I understand it, is thy will be 
done.’' 

“Scotia, I know my duty. What do you mean by 
this evident desire to anger me ? Are you weary of 
our engagement ? ” 

“ If you think so.” 

“ You try to make me think so.” 

“ Evidently it is easy work.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“ Nor I you. I will return home.” 

She walked rapidly ; too rapidly for much conver¬ 
sation. Neither, however, made any attempt toward 
it. In silence they retraced their steps; and the sun 
shone and the birds .sang in vain as far as they were 
concerned. As they passed through the park they 
saw a hare which had torn its front paws from a trap 
in order to escape. It was in great misery. Scotia 
stopped, folded the wounds in her handkerchief, and 
then lifted the poor suffering creature in her arms. 
Bruce walked slowly forward, and finally waited for 
her. He made no comment on the hare, and did not 
offer to relieve her of her trembling burden. He was 
feeling, with a great sense of wrong, that Scotia had 


THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 277 

forgotten his suffering in that of the perishing, dumb 
animal. 

When they eached the door, Bertha came to meet 
them. She was dressed in a cherry-colored cashmere. 
She had white lace near her throat, and ruffles of 
white lace round her pretty wrists. She had cherry 
ribbons in her black hair. She was very attractive, 
and she took Bruce’s hand and held it, while she 
offered Scotia a letter. 

“ You naughty girl ! ” she said. “ Why did you not 
tell us that Captain Forres is coming? We should 
never have known if aunt had not marked her letter 
‘Haste!’ and so mother thought it best to open it. 
He will be here in an hour. You have just time to 
dress.” 

Scotia glanced at the letter, and the news happened 
to fit her mood. She felt glad to annoy Angus. It 
would do him no harm to feel a little uncertainty 
about her. Jealousy is the accepted punishment all 
women naturally apply to recalcitrant lovers. Scotia 
affected to be delighted with the news. She said she 
would make ready for the captain as soon as she had 
attended to the wounded hare ; and she went off 
without a word to Angus, while Bertha, who was still 
holding his hand, said : 

“Come in, Mr. Bruce. Mother will expect you to 
dinner, and I shall have to depend upon your kind¬ 
ness to-night. Of course, Scotia will have neither 
eyes nor ears for any one but ‘ Jamie Forres.’ ” 

“Why ‘of course,’ Miss Bertha.” 

“ Oh, you know—you know—really, I have lio au¬ 
thority to say anything. Stay, and see for yourself.” 

But Bruce lifted his hat and turned homeward. He 
was too indignant for speech. His heart was in a 


278 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


blaze of angry suspicion. He was as miserable as 
Scotia was, and her tears were dropping heavily upon 
the hare’s feet as she held the creature for the hostler 
to attend to. He thought she was weeping for the 
suffering animal ; she knew that she was weeping for 
her lover’s wounded heart. 


XVI. 


love’s reason is without reason. 

“ How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
Makes deeds ill done.” 

“ How many fond fools serve mad jealousy ? ” 

“ He that but fears the thing he would not know. 

Hath by instinct knowledge from others’ eyes, 

That which he feared is chained.” 

“Jealousy is the green ey’d monster which doth make 
The meat it feeds on.” 

— Shakespeare, 

n^'HE next morning was cold and raw, the air was 

full of coming rain, the east wind searching and 
bitter. But as Bruce was going through the village, 
he saw Scotia and Captain Forres riding together. 
The captain wore his military cloak, Scotia her 
warmest habit. Bruce was near the old manse gate, 
and he had a momentary temptation to call on Adam 
and Grizel, and so escape the painful meeting. He 
gave it no attention, and walked steadily forward. 
But while he was at least one hundred yards distant, 
the riders stopped at the cottage of John Latham, and 
Captain Forres dismounted and entered it. Scotia, 
followed by the groom, then turned backward to 
Rodney House. 

Bruce was astonished. He could not imagine why 
Captain Forres had called at the Latham cottage. 

279 


A SISTEK TO ESAU. 


280 

Sarah Latham was a dressmaker, her husband an 
idle ne’er-do-weel, whom she in the main supported. 
One thing, however, was clear to Bruce—that there 
was a friendship between Scotia and Captain Forres 
so intimate as to dispense with the ordinary ceremo¬ 
nies of mere acquaintanceship. They rode slowly' in 
spite of the cold and damp ; Forres was talking earn¬ 
estly, and Scotia listening with interest and pleasure. 
When Forres dismounted at Latham’s cottage, he 
held her hand ; and there was in their parting that 
familiar air which carries confirmation of some close 
personal understanding—an air which deeply offended 
Bruce. 

In the afternoon he went to Rodney. He saw no 
one but Bertha. She said her mother had been ailing 
for some days, and had been finally compelled to send 
for the doctor. She was in her room and Scotia was 
with her. He sent a message to Mrs. Rodney, and 
then sat half an hour with Bertha. He thought Scotia 
would come to him, but she did not, and Bertha at 
last said, “ I suppose Scotia is fretting a little at the 
shortness of Captain Forres’s visit. He had to go 
to Monteith to-day, and will not be back until next 
Friday.” 

“ I saw him go into Sarah Latham’s—it seemed 
strange.” 

“Not at all. John Latham was in Captain Forres’s 
company, and acted as his attendant while there. I 
suppose you have heard Sarah bought her husband 
off. Captain Forres wanted a valet to go with him to 
Monteith, and I am sure he called at Latham’s to hire 
John.” 

“ Very likely. Then Captain Forres returns next 
Friday ? ” 


LOVE'S REA SON IS IVITIIO UT REA SON. 2 81 

“ Yes, for a flying visit. He is such a favorite 
with Aunt Yarrow. I believe she has promised him 
great things if he marries Scotia.” 

‘‘If he marries Scotia?” said Bruce indignantly. 

Bertha laughed. “You know, Mr. Bruce, a great 
many people may talk of marrying Scotia. It is a 
long way between saying and doing the thing. Scotia 
is as cross as crossed sticks this afternoon, but if you 
wish to see her I will go to mother, and send her to 
you.” 

“ Not on any account. Miss Bertha. It is Saturday. 
I will not wait longer.” 

This day indicated the whole of the next week, 
which was a completely wretched one. Scotia was at 
the Sabbath service, but Bruce did not permit himself 
to look at her. On Monday she did not appear when 
he called. She had determined not to appear until 
he asked to see her. Really, Bruce did not think of 
the necessity. His knowledge of women, and of the 
small formalities they require, was not great. It did 
not enter his mind that Scotia was waiting for him to 
take the first step toward an explanation. Perhaps if 
it had done so, he might have been equally remiss; 
for he thought Scotia had wantonly hurt his feelings, 
and that it was her duty to express sorrow for the 
cruel, tantalizing despotism which led her to such acts. 
He was waiting to be gracious and to forgive her. 
He was anxious and longing to do so ; but if she 
would not come where he was, how could he let her 
see his desire. 

So the mournful week passed. During it Mrs. 
Rodney’s illness developed into a slow, intermittent 
fever, which confined her to her bed, and required the 
constant care and society of one of her daughters. 


282 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Rodney House was exceedingly quiet ; an air of 
depression filled its rooms, although the garden and 
park were already beautiful with the verdure and 
promise of an early spring. Bruce went to Rodney 
House every day. Twice he left the saddle and sat 
an hour in the parlor, hoping vainly that Scotia 
would come and speak to him. 

He did not know that every day Scotia said to 
Bertha, “ Did Angus Bruce ask to see me ?” He did 
not know that Bertha had taken special care to repeat, 
with its most aggravating accent, Bruce’s reply to her 
solitary proposal to call Scotia: “ He said, when I 
offered to call you, ‘ Not on any account.’ He never 
named you. He asked about mother. He said I was 
looking very weary. He asked when my father was 
coming. He made such and such comments—but he 
never asked for you. He never once named you.” 

Such was the tenor of all Bertha’s reporting, and 
Scotia began to feel every fresh visit .an impertinence. 
Did he come to Rodney to show her that he was 
indifferent ? that he would make the inquiries he 
promised her father to make, irrespective of her 
presence or absence ? She thought there was bravado 
in these daily visits, which roused in her heart a bitter 
anger. She believed them to be made solely to wound 
her. She was quite aware she had been provoking ; 
she was ready to admit the fact if Bruce would give 
her an opportunity. But he must ask to see her. 
Her self-respect demanded so much from her. 

The whole week had been filled with such cross 
purposes as far as Angus was concerned. Every 
trivial event worked with Bertha to separate them, 
and she was quite ready now to carry out to its full 
end the plan she had made for that purpose. It was 


LOVE'S EE A SON IS IVITIIO UT REA SON. 2 83 


almost ready-made for her. She could not have con¬ 
ceived of anything so apropos as the plain events 
ordered for her hand. 

It came through the friendshipof Scotia and Captain 
Forres. Forres was one of those people with whom 
familiarity is perfectly natural and innocent. From the 
first hour of their acquaintance, Scotia and Jamie For¬ 
res had been familiar. Men inclined to slop over have 
generally a natural tact in discovering loyal natures. 
Forres had made Scotia his confidant long before she 
had left London. She knew that he was in love with 
Flora Monteith, and that he had great hopes of win¬ 
ning her. The girl was not only a beauty, she was an 
heiress ; and her Scottish home was with her uncle at 
Monteith Castle, twenty miles north of Rodney. 

In this love affair Scotia had been his friend and 
helper. They had talked of the matter with the most 
complete confidence. They talked also, with the 
same confidence, of Lady Yarrow’s desire to marry 
them to each other. Lady Yarrow had been very 
kind to Forres ; he did not wish to offend her ; and 
he thought if he could win Flora Monteith, she would 
accept such a prudent, wealthy marriage as a set-off 
against all his previous failures. Many confidences 
grew out of these circumstances, perfectly innocent, 
and not necessary to specify. 

When Forres left Scotia at Latham’s cottage, 
though he held her hand, he was talking of Flora 
Monteith ; and he was really so absorbed in this sub¬ 
ject, that, having removed his cloak while he arranged 
for Latham’s service, he left it lying on the table. He 
had galloped five miles ere he discovered his loss ; 
then he reflected that Latham would follow in a few 
hours, and doubtless bring the cloak with him. 


284 A SISTER TO ESAL/. 'j 

But Sarah Latham, who knew her husband’s failing, 
was afraid he might be tempted to sell it for liquor, 
and she hid the cloak in her chest, and sent word to 
Rodney House of its whereabouts. The note hap¬ 
pened to fall into Bertha’s hands. It was like the 
opening of a door; it was like the lifting of a weapon 
to her. She stood still with flushing cheeks, holding 
the soiled bit of paper, and considering, and seeing 
clearly what a power she had at her disposal. She 
heard Scotia coming. She dropped the note into the 
fire. In the same moment, she resolved to accept the 
suggestions some one had made through it. 

“ Scotia, I feel the need of a walk so much. Are 
you able to stay with mother until noon ? ” 

“ Yes. I think a walk will do you good. Bertha, 
if you meet Angus Bruce, try and say a reconciling 
word. You are so clever. Let him know he ought 
to seek an interview. If he were ever so unkind, it 
would be better than this silence and apparent indif¬ 
ference.” 

Her face was piteous, white, and sad, and Bertha 
kissed her, and made the kiss seem a thousand prom¬ 
ises. But as she walked to Sarah Latham’s, she told 
herself that she was really doing Scotia a service in 
effectually separating her from Angus. She would 
then doubtless marry Captain Forres, and please Lady 
Yarrow, and every one else. Oh, the wicked never 
yet wanted an excuse for their wickedness ! 

Sarah had done a great deal of sewing for Bertha 
before her marriage was broken off; she had been ac¬ 
customed to see her almost every day. She had re¬ 
garded her as an almost sure livelihood. She had got 
used to associating Bertha Rodney and ready money 
together. Therefore, when Bertha said, Sarah, 


LOVE'S REA SON IS WITHO UT REA SON. 285 

you can do something important for the house of 
Rodney, and you will be well paid for it Sarah was 
quite ready to listen and assent. 

“ In the first place, Sarah, you must not let John go 
to Monteith. I have something for him to do here. 
Secondly, you must not tQ^ll any one about Captain 
Forres’s cloak.” 

“ It is in my box. Miss Bertha. I wouldn’t let John 
know for anything. He’d sell it for a shilling, and 
get drunk.” 

“ Have you heard about Miss Rodney and the 
minister ? ” 

“ I have heard they are engaged to be married.” 

“ It is killing my poor mother ; she is in bed now 
about it. When father knows, I dare not think what 
will be the result. And it is only contradiction in 
Scotia. She ought to marry Captain Forres. Now I 
am going to try and save trouble for all of us, and 
make Scotia do good to herself. Will you help me to 
break up the affair with the minister ? ” 

I’m sure I’ll do anything I can. Miss Bertha.” 

“You once told me that you wished to go to 
New York with John. How much money do you 
want ? ” 

“Oh, Miss, at least thirty-five pounds.” 

“ I will give you thirty if you do as I wish. You 
can manage John, I suppose?” 

“ For a bottle of whisky, John will do any earthly 
thing.” 

“ It is nothing wrong, Sarah. It is the simplest 
and most innocent action. Captain Forres will be here 
Friday. You know the fir plantation which is entered 
by a stile from the park ? ” 

“ Very well, Miss.” 


286 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


“ The minister, coming from Rodney House, passes 
that stile every night.” 

“ Just before dark. Miss, I should say.” 

“ I will send you a parcel containing a suit of Miss 
Rodney’s, her cloak and bonnet, and one of her 
gloves. You have precisely her figure, and you must 
wear the suit. You can hide all your hair under the 
bonnet, and you had better veil your face. John is to 
wear the captain’s cloak. When you see the minister 
coming, sit a few minutes on the stile. John must 
have his arm around you; in short, you must act as 
lovers parting would act. As the minister comes 
closer, go into the wood, and so gradually out of his 
sight. But be sure to leave on the stile—in your 
hurry—Miss Rodney’s gray cloak ; and drop the 
glove there, also. You understand ? ” 

“Very well, John will be glad to earn money so 
easy ; and, dear me. Miss, to get away to a new place, 
and a new life, is fair salvation for us both ! ” 

“ Of course, you know, this is not to be spoken of 
to any one. And you had better send back the suit 
and bonnet as soon as possible.” 

“I will be mumm as the grave—and I’ll answer for 
John, too.” 

“If you manage it, I will give you thirty sovereigns 
as soon you are ready to go. But you must talk a little 
about the move to New York. You must sell your 
furniture, and contrive to give the impression that 
Captain Forres gave John the money. A great many 
people, I dare say, saw him at your cottage.” 

“Indeed, Miss, we will do all you want. John is 
under my thumb, and dying to get away from here. 
If you will send the things, and give the thirty sove¬ 
reigns, I will do all the rest. I have a woman’s heart 


LO VE 'S REASON IS WITHOUT REASON. 287 

in me; and I know a woman’s ways as well as any 
fine lady.” 

“You had better send John to Rodney for the 
clothing. Tell him to say to the servants, ‘ he has 
come for Miss Bertha’s dresses to alter.’ ” 

Then Bertha put a few shillings into the woman’s 
hand and went home. She was not much troubled. 
Even if the masquerading was found out, she could 
turn it into a joke, and say she thought the minister 
deserved to be teased a little. He had been so un¬ 
reasonable with Scotia. She knew just how to get 
out of the affair. And she really did think it would 
be a fine bit of pleasantry, whether successful or 
unsuccessful. 

It was more successful from the very dawn of 
Friday than she had dared to hope. In the first 
place. Captain Forres arrived very early in the day, 
and stayed only a few hours. When Angus paid his 
daily visit, Forres was gone. Bertha met the minis¬ 
ter with a little air of flurry. 

“ Come in, Mr. Bruce ; though indeed I cannot ask 
you to stay, because mother is alone, and she is worse 
to-night.” 

“ I suppose you have company ? Can I do any¬ 
thing for you ? ” 

“ We have no company; Captain Forres left soon 
after luncheon. Rodney is not a cheerful place to 
stay now ! He said he should go as far as Latham’s, 
and then to Cupar House. He will remain over Sab¬ 
bath with Gilchrist, who is keeping bachelor’s hall at 
present. Scotia went for a walk about an hour ago. 
I dare say you will meet her in the park. Had you 
not better make up your quarrel.” 

He thought she was in earnest, and looked grate- 


288 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


fully at the girl, whose impatience to return to her 
sick mother he perceived and respected. He had sel¬ 
dom felt kinder to Bertha. He smiled on her in a 
way that made her blush and tingle with pleasure ; 
and then with some new hope in his heart turned 
homeward. He loitered a little as he went. The 
gloaming was so exquisite, the spring so entrancing. 
The tiny leaves were bursting on the brushwood, the 
birds were everywhere in their nuptial plumage, sing¬ 
ing like bridegrooms. The winter was really behind ; 
the glory of spring just at hand. There was a half¬ 
moon also—a tender, mystical-looking moon, predis¬ 
posing the happiest heart to a still happier melan¬ 
choly. 

Bertha, having dismissed Angus Bruce, lay down 
on the sofa and bound a wet kerchief round her brow. 
She expected Scotia to be impatient for a report of 
every word, and within half an hour her expectations 
were realized. With a tired, miserable face she 
opened the parlor door and looked in : 

“ Is your head worse, Bertha ? ” 

“ It is almost intolerable. Angus Bruce was 
here.” 

‘‘I heard him. What did he say?” 

“The usual things—‘Sorry for mother,’ etc. ‘ Had 
Captain Forres returned ? ’ etc. I told him the cap¬ 
tain had been, and gone.” 

“ Did he name me ? ” 

“ Not once.” 

“ You are not able, I suppose, to come and sit with 
mother a little ? ” 

“ I feel sleepy. If I can sleep an hour, I shall be 
better. Then I will stay with her until midnight.” 

“ Very well, dear. Can I do anything for you ? ” 


LOVERS REA SON IS IVITHO UT REA SON, 289 

Only stay with mother, and let me sleep. I feel 
as if I must forget I live for one hour.” 

Scotia closed the door and went softly upstairs, 
step by step, feeling each step an effort. “I wonder 
if I have fever also ? ” she queried. “ I do not seem 
able to live. Oh, Angus ! Angus ! ” 

Angus was at that moment scanning every walk and 
vista in the park. Bertha’s words had made him im¬ 
patient to see Scotia ; he felt that if he could only 
meet her there, alone with nature, all might easily be 
put right. Never had she been so sweet to his 
memory. His eyes were aching to see her ; his ears 
longed for her voice. To catch her smile—to clasp 
her hand—to be close to her—to feel the perfume of 
her garments ! Oh, how he wearied and hungered 
for these delights ! 

A sudden, damp sweetness filled the air ; he knew 
it was wood violets ; he stopped and gathered some ; 
and when he lifted his eyes he saw Scotia and Cap¬ 
tain Forres come out of the fir plantation, and stroll 
toward the stile. He looked at them as if he were 
dreaming. He remembered that Bertha told him 
Forres had gone two hours previously to the village 
and to Cupar House ; and that Scotia was walking in 
the park. Then there had been an assignation. In 
order to meet this man alone, Scotia had condescended 
to deception and equivocation. 

Anger blew hard at the lamp of his love. His heart 
was hot; he felt that it was no sin to be in a passion. 
He was naturally a man of mettle and high spirit, and 
every natural feeling was aflame. He kept his gaze 
upon the lovers—for lovers they undoubtedly were. 
They sat down on the broad topmost step, and Forres 
put his arm around Scotia. She leaned against his 


290 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


shoulder, and he kissed her repeatedly ; yes, and fin¬ 
ally Scotia lifted her head and kissed Forres. 

In the few moments during which he was approach¬ 
ing the stile, he saw that Scotia gave to Forres tokens 
of affection she had never permitted herself to give 
him. When he was within fifty yards of the lovers, 
they suddenly became aware of his presence. Forres 
passed over the stile into the wood ; Scotia went with 
him. Angus neither delaying, nor yet hurrying, went 
direct to the place on which they had been sitting. 
Scotia’s gray winsey cloak lay upon the stile, and her 
right hand glove was on the turf beneath. He sat 
down where they had been sitting, his first impulse 
being to wait until the night forced them from the 
dampness and darkness of the firs. He saw the 
couple at intervals, as they passed along the winding 
path ; saw them so plainjy that he fully recognized 
the dress Scotia wore as one he particularly admired— 
a green cloth pelisse, trimmed with minever. The 
borders of white fur were unique ; he knew of no other 
garment like it. Forres wore his military cloak ; he 
remembered the garment distinctly. There had been 
no shadow of doubt when he first saw them together ; 
while he sat upon the stile he verified every particular. 

Oh, if he had been mistaken in all else, he told him¬ 
self, he never could have doubted the tall, graceful 
figure of the girl who was so false to him ! And per¬ 
haps the keenest pang of all was given by the demon¬ 
strative affection Scotia showed this soldier. With 
him she had always been so shy and chary of every 
favor ; very seldom, indeed, had she permitted him to 
touch her lips. He had thought this reserve a chas¬ 
tity pure as heaven ; it gave him a mortal pain to see 
Scotia set it aside with a more favored lover. 


LOVE’S REA SON IS IVITIIO UT REA SON 2 91 

A passionate contempt for the inconstancy and un¬ 
truthfulness of all women rose like a sudden storm in 
his soul. Wave after wave of it went over him. He 
forgot everything in its turbulence for a little while ; 
then he perceived that it had grown dark, and he was 
still alone. He felt that he need wait no longer. 
Scotia had seen him, and gone home by the other side 
of the wood. That she had done so was another 
pvoof of her faithlessness, for it compelled her to take 
a walk of three miles ; and she had evidently pre¬ 
ferred the walk to the shame of meeting him. He 
lifted the cloak, put the glove in his pocket, and 
walked rapidly to Innergrey. 

The house and the place had become during this 
hour hateful to him. He recalled Bertha's face, and 
was sure she was pitying, even while she advised him. 
The Colonel, Mrs. Rodney, the new heir, all the per¬ 
sonalities and events connected with his stay in 
Rodney, sunk low in his estimation ; he thought only 
of the faults and the disagreeableness of each and all. 
Even the patronage of Lady Yarrow oppressed him.- 
He wished his mother had trusted to God and herself. 
Yet in this chaos of wounded and depreciated fortune, 
he remembered his mother as the one sure and cer¬ 
tain comfort ; and after a long, impotent struggle 
with his sick heart, he opened it to her; told her 
everything ; his difference with Scotia's opinions, their 
coldness in consequence, Scotia's subsequent refusal 
to see or speak to him. Captain Forres's visit, and its 
shipwrecking consequences, as far as his love-life was 
concerned. 

This confession did him some good, but he could 
not sleep, and he spent the night in the vain nursing 
of his wrong, and in restless plans for a future which 


292 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


must put entirely behind him all memories of the past 
and present. Toward morning his emotions induced 
a severe nervous headache. He had been watching 
for the morning impatiently, desiring the hour in 
which he could insist upon an interview with his false 
love; but when it came he was bound fast by almost 
intolerable physical pain. Light, movement, a foot¬ 
fall, a whisper intensified his suffering, and the 
morrow was the Sabbath! What if he was not able 
to perform his duties ! He would be compelled to 
blame himself for giving place to such fierce emotions, 
and for the neglect of the conditions necessary for 
health—one of those sins against the body always 
inexorably punished. 

He lay prostrate all day. Both Scotia and Bertha 
wondered at his absence ; Bertha was nervous and 
curious ; Scotia hopeless and miserable. In the 
afternoon Sarah Latham brought back Scotia’s dress 
and bonnet. She called them “Bertha’s dresses,” 
and Bertha took her to her room, and heard what 
perfect success had crowned her evil plan. But she 
found out that consummated evil has its pains and 
penalties. Sarah’s tone had changed. She was eager 
for the wage she had won, and Bertha felt compelled 
to give her it. Bertha was naturally accumulative 
and careful, she had acquired these thirty sovereigns 
by planning and saving during all the time she was 
buying her wedding outfit She felt now that she 
had paid a dear price for a very uncertain benefit. 
Bruce had not come in a passion as she expected he 
would ; either Sarah was deceiving her, or else Bruce 
was going to take the affair in some unusual way. 

When she saw him at the Sabbath service, she was 
shocked at his appearance. She doubted Sarah no 


LOVE'S REA SON IS WITHO UT REA SON. 293 

longer. It was evident Bruce had been suffering. 
He looked “as if he had just come back from death,” 
she said on her return home. Scotia made no remark. 
She, too, was ill; the doctor had just expressed his 
opinion that “ she had the same fever as her mother.” 
The diagnosis of sorrowful love has never been made 
for any pharmacopaeia ; it passes for fever as well as • 
anything. 

On Monday morning, a little before noon, Scotia, 
standing at the window, saw Angus approach the 
door. There was something so unusual in his man¬ 
ner that it arrested her attention. Bertha was reading 
to Mrs. Rodney. Ordinarily, Scotia would have taken 
the book and sent Bertha to meet Bruce. This morn¬ 
ing she said nothing of his being there. Very soon a 
servant brought a written message and gave it into 
Scotia’s hand. It was a formal, but urgent, request 
to see her. The tone of the note troubled her, but 
she was glad of the opportunity it gave. She made 
up her mind as she went to the parlor to be as patient 
and loving as her lover could desire. She felt that 
life without him was only a living death. 

Bruce looked very ill, but the change in him was as 
nothing compared with the waste and pallor which 
fretting and confinement had produced in Scotia’s 
appearance. It gave Angus a shock, and her wan, 
pitiful smile when she saw him touched his very 
heart of hearts. But the cloak was before his eyes; 
he glanced at it, and forgot every kind feeling. 
Scotia advanced rapidly, with her hands stretched 
out. “ My dear Angus ! ” she cried softly. “ Oh, 
my dear Angus ! ” 

“ I have brought you back your cloak, Miss Rodney 
—and also your glove.” 


294 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


“ My cloak and glove ! But what do you mean ? ” 

‘‘ Are these not yours ? ” 

“ Yes, they are mine.” 

“ You know, of course, that you left them at the 
stile by the fir plantation on Friday evening. I found 
them there.” 

She shook her head. “ I have not been so far down 
the park for two weeks.” 

“ Scotia ! I saw you there !” 

“ Angus ! You could not see me there. But if 
you did, what then ? ” 

“ Only heartbreak and wrong for me ! Only the 
loss of love and all love promised me.” 

“ What do you mean, Angus ? ” 

“ I mean,” he said angrily, “ that I saw you and 
Captain Forres together there. Surely there is no 
need for me to say more.” 

“ You never saw me there with Captain Forres.” 

I did. You wore your green pelisse trimmed 
with minever. Could I mistake it ? Could I mistake 
you ! ” 

“You are dreaming — or ill. Angus! Dearest 
Angus ! ” 

“ Scotia Rodney, I am no longer ‘ dearest ’ to you ! 
I will be nothing less. Take back your promise with 
your cloak and glove. I will not share your heart 
with any man.” 

“ Angus ! I tell you, on my honor ! you are mis¬ 
taken.” 

“ Miss Rodney, I tell you, on my honor ! you are 
untruthful.” 

“ I was never near the fir wood on Friday. I was 
not out of the house on Friday. Come and see 
mother. She will tell you so.” 


LO VE 'S REA SON IS WITHO UT REA SON. 295 


“ My own eyes have told me the truth. It was no 
passing glance. I watched you for some minutes I 
saw Captain Forres with his arm around you. He 
wore his military cloak. I saw him kiss you several 
times. Yes, as surely as I live, I saw you kiss him. 
\ou were then among the fir trees.” 

“Captain Forres never, in all his life, touched my 
lips. I certainly never touched his.” 

“ I saw you.” 

“You did not, sir.” 

“ If you had only the grace to acknowledge your 
fault, I-” 

“ Sir ! I would be dumb forever, ere I would ac¬ 
knowledge a fault I never committed. If you doubt 
me, ask Captain Forres. Ask mother. Ask Bertha. 
Ask the servants.” 

“ Bertha told me that you had gone to walk in the 
park when I called here last Friday evening.” 

“ Bertha could not tell you so. She knew that I 
was with mother. Bertha had a violent headache. 
Do you believe Bertha before me ?” 

“ I believe my own eyes." 

“Angus! Angus! Do not leave me in such un¬ 
certainty and misery ! Angus ! Angus ! ” 

“ I can have no part in a woman, however lovely 
and dear, who is untruthful and unfaithful. Was not 
one fond, loyal heart enough for you ? Only light, 
vain women, make their sport out of many lovers.” 

“I am no light, vain woman. I will defend myself 
no more to you. I see plainly that you have de¬ 
termined to quarrel with me. I will spare you the 
pitiful shame of it.” 

She left the room with the words ; her face was 
flushed with indignation ; her manner haughty, and 



296 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


even contemptuous. And for some time this attitude 
was the necessary one. She locked her room and sat 
down to think. Though too angry at Bruce to per¬ 
mit herself any explanation, she already suspected 
some one’s treachery. And after an hour’s dispas¬ 
sionate examination, she fixed the treachery upon 
Bertha. But, if it was Bertha’s doing, she saw no 
way to explain it. She might tell her father and 
mother, and sufficient pressure be put upon Bertha to 
make her confess the truth to Angus. But Scotia 
knew that, even in such a strait, Bertha would con¬ 
trive to give Angus the impression that her confession 
was an act of pity, forced from her, to exonerate her 
sister in his eyes. 

She understood now how skillfully the trouble be¬ 
tween herself and Bruce had been fostered ; she saw 
many things plainly that had only been a passing 
speculation to her. She was trembling with anger 
and the sense of wrong and injustice. The expres¬ 
sion of her face changed. She laughed scornfully, 
only to prevent bitter weeping. She had brought up¬ 
stairs with her the offending cloak, and she tossed it 
hither and thither, as her thoughts tossed her. For 
some hours she was afraid to see Bertha. She 
wondered why Bertha had done this thing ? Was it 
that she might suffer the same disappointment as her¬ 
self ? Did she want so much to live at Innergrey ? 
Was she really in love with Angus ? Or was it the 
simple envy and selfishness of her nature ? Scotia 
could hardly believe in the existence of such wicked 
purposes ; she only felt her own inability to cope 
with the cruel circumstances. “ Oh, if Father was at 
home ! ” she moaned. “ I cannot trouble Mother 
now. And there is no one to help me ! ” 


LOF£ ’S REASON IS IVITHOUI' REASOW 297 


She remained so long in her room that finally Bertha 
came to see if she was sick. “ Mother and I are so 
anxious about you,” she said. Scotia impulsively 
opened the door and drew her sister into the room. 
Her grasp was so firm that Bertha said : 

“ You hurt me, Scotia. What are you locking the 
door for 1 ” 

“ You have hurt me a thousand times more cruelly. 
I have locked the door to make you listen to me. Sit 
down—or stand up. I care not.” 

‘‘ Scotia, you are ill—you have lost your senses. 
Mother ! Mother ! Mother ! ” 

“ Be quiet. I am not going to kill you, though you 
deserve it. Now tell me who you got to personate me 
last Friday night ? ” 

“ Scotia, you have the fever—you are crazy. If you 
do not open the door, I will jump out of the window.” 

“ I shall not allow you. Who were the persons 
representing Captain Forres and myself ? You had 
better tell me, Bertha.” 

Then Bertha saw that she had come to a corner in 
life which she could only turn with a lie, and she said 
promptly—“ It was the new gardener and his wife. 
You know he has been a soldier. Scotia, upon my 
honor ! I did it for your sake. I thought if Angus 
were made jealous, he would behave better to you.” 

** Did I ever meddle with your affairs? What right 
had you to trifle with mine ? You have broken my 
heart. You have ruined my life. Oh, I know now 
how easy it was for Aunt Yarrow not to speak to 
mother for so many years ! ” 

“ Let me go to mother. She is very sick. I think 
it is a great shame of you to take Aunt Yarrow’s part 
against your own dear mother ! Poor mother ! ” 


298 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“When father comes back, I shall tell him all. The 
new gardener must go. As for you, Bertha, keep out 
of my sight, and do not trouble yourself to speak to 
me.” 

“ I am sure, Scotia, it has not been pleasant to be 
with you lately; and as for speaking to you, I do not 
want to until you get into a better temper. If Angus 
Bruce were here, I dare say you would be as sweet 
as an angel. I suppose you are trying to imitate 
Aunt Yarrow. I think she is a very poor creature, 
neglecting her own flesh and blood, and adopting 
strange people. I hope I have some human nature in 
me. You ought to thank me for my interest in your 
suffering, and not threaten to kill me.” 

“ What folly you are talking ! Do not think you 
deceive me by it. Are you sure that it was the new 
gardener and his wife ? ” 

“I will not say another word about it.” 

“You must answer me.” 

“Open the door, Scotia.”^ 

“ Are you sure it was the gardener and his wife ? ” 

“ Open the door.” 

“ Not till /ou tell me.” 

“ Well then—I am sure.” 

“ What a mean little creature you are, Bertha ! You 
may go.” 

Bertha fled and told her mother that Scotia had a 
fever, and was raving, she thought; and with this 
assertion Scotia entered, and there was a stormy scene, 
in which Bertha denied all she had affirmed about the 
gardener; declaring that she had only blamed him in 
order to get out of the locked room. 

“I was really terrified, mother!” and she crept 
close to Mrs. Rodney, and while she wept copiously, 


LOFE ’S /REASON- IS WITHOUT REASON, 299 


begged her to remember how sick she was on Friday, 
and how impossible and unlikely she would do such 
things as she was accused of. 

Mrs. Rodney believed her. She blamed Angus. 
She was sure either that jealousy of Captain Forres 
had made him temporarily unfit to judge of people ; 
or else that his severe attack of headache had been 
preceded by some mental hallucination, which, com¬ 
bining with his jealousy, had made him see the thing 
he feared. 

So Scotia had little comfort in her sorrow. Mrs. 
Rodney wished her husband would come back ! She 
began to cry at the trouble around her, and to feel as 
if she was deserted, and when Bertha said : 

“I think it is wicked to annoy mother about our 
selfish little affairs just when she is coming back from 
the very grave ; let us be friends, Scotia.” 

Mrs. Rodney thought what a good child Bertha 
was, and how unreasonably Scotia behaved in refusing 
to answer her sister’s gentle overtures. 

“ Scotia is my sister Jemima over again,” said the 
convalescing mother ; “and, oh, dear ! what heartaches 
Jemima did give me ! ” 

As for Angus, he suffered as strong men suffer 
when they bend their affections and their desires to 
their sense of duty. He was jealous, unreasonably 
jealous, miserably jealous, and in such case 

“ Fancies are 
Just as valid as affidavits ; 

And the vaguest illusions quite 
As much evidence, as testimony 
Taken upon oath.” 

But he had one loving, sympathetic consoler. His 
mother believed all he said. She pitied him ; she 


300 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


advised him ; she approved all he proposed ; she en¬ 
couraged him to write out his "tief, and she partially 
believed him when he asserted his life to be blighted 
by Scotia’s treachery. “He had been so happy,” he 
said. “ He had been dwelling in the land of sunshine 
and love, and hope. Suddenly he had been deserted. 
Over all his prospects had come 

‘ A mist and a blinding rain, 

And life could never be happy again.’ ” 


XVII. 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 


“ A merry heart goes all the day, 
Your sad heart tires in a mile—a.” 


— Shakespeare, 


“ But verily there are watchers over you— 
Worthy reporters, 

[ Knowing what ye do.” 


— Koran. 


He who the sword of heaven will bear. 
Should be as holy as severe.” 


” Hope is the lover's staff.” 


— Shakespeare. 



HE plaintive desire of Mrs. Rodney for the return 


of the Colonel found an earnest echo in Scotia’s 
heart. And yet neither would hurry him by any com¬ 
plaint. Mrs. Rodney had forbidden all mention of 
her illness, and Scotia wrote her usual pleasant letters, 
though she felt as if her heart was breaking for his 
sympathy. All in vain this year came the joy and 
beauty of April and May to Scotia. The blackbird 
whistled his tattoo about the garden paths very early 
for her, but she did not throw open her casement to an¬ 
swer him. The soft, still, melancholy dawns could not 
woo her into their sweetness ; the trees, misty with 
buds and plumes, with tufts and tassels, no longer 
heard her light, firm step beneath them. The prim¬ 
roses nestling amid the undergrowth—the sweet wood 


301 


302 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


violet—the fragile anemones with their wistful looks, 
won none of her old love and regard. Most of all 
the building birds missed her. 

She sat still in the house, or lay with closed eyes 
upon her bed ; or paced the floor of her room with 
miserable, restless footsteps. If it were necessary she 
spoke to Bertha, but in a voice menhanical and un¬ 
feeling. She read to her mother, and talked with her 
on every subject but that of Bruce. His name she 
would not listen to. In her heart she had done him 
full justice. It was almost certain he had been de¬ 
ceived by some couple personating Captain Forres and 
herself. If so she did not blame him for his anger ; 
but she did blame him for being so ready to believe 
wrong, and so remiss in righting the wrong. 

Put in his place, she was quite sure she would have 
followed the couple and given them the reproach 
they deserved, or else the shame of their discovery. 
Put in his place, she was quite sure she would have 
taken love on his own denial, and assertion, and 
neither rested nor slept until the conspiracy was 
brought to light. But being only a woman, she could 
not move in her own defense. To wait and to suffer 
were her sole privileges. 

She was also a proud girl, and she was wounded in 
her pride as well as her affection. Consciously or 
not, she had really felt that her love conferred a kind 
of social distinction upon the minister. It was impossi¬ 
ble that she should have been for so many years her 
father’s companion, and not have become a sharer in 
her father’s pride of ancestry and family. Sometimes, 
indeed, she had felt annoyed at the slight import¬ 
ance Angus appeared to attach to this side of their 
engagement. He did not allude to it, and delicacy 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 303 

had kept her silent. Yet she felt all the pride of 
Rodney in her heart, and to have her troth thrown 
back to her as worthless, gave her frequent spasms of 
chagrin and humiliation that wasted her away physic¬ 
ally with their fever. 

Bertha made several attempts to soften and concili¬ 
ate her sister, but Scotia doubted their sincerity. She 
is afraid of consequences. She is afraid of father. 
Now that she has accomplished all her wicked desires 
she wants me to forget. “ Undo the wrong you have 
done and I will forgive all that you have made me 
suffer.” To every petition Bertha made, this was the 
answer she returned. And Bertha was not inclined 
to put herself in such a shameful position. She feared 
the look, the words, which Angus would give her. 
Anticipatively she burned with the fire of his con¬ 
tempt. It was impossible for her to face such humilia¬ 
tion. 

Besides, it was really beyond her power to com¬ 
pletely clear up the mystery. John and Sarah La¬ 
tham had left Rodney. She had had one letter from 
Sarah dated from Leith, in which the woman said they 
would sail on the John Anderson^ a merchant vessel 
bound for New York, on the following day. But it 
was part of Bertha’s immediate punishment to feel 
a constant uncertainty concerning her accomplices. 
Since the Lathams had left, Bertha had been told that 
Sarah also was inclined to drink too much whisky, and 
Bertha recalled several personal experiences with the 
woman which confirmed the accusation in her own mind. 
Such a couple could not be depended upon. She 
feared every mail that came. A strange letter made her 
sick with terror, lest it might be a demand for more 
money. She was sorry enough now for what she had 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


304 

done. It had cost her all her little hoard of gold. It 
gave her a constant anxiety. It had had an opposite 
effect upon Angus from the one she had anticipated; 
instead of making her his confidant and comforter in 
the matter, he had ceased coming to Rodney altogether. 
She had even heard that he was going to leave Rod¬ 
ney. 

Always, hitherto, in all her small selfish plans and 
petty schemes for her own interest, Scotia had been 
easily moved to forgive. She had had only to say, 
“ I am sorry, Scotia, I did not mean to pain you; ” 
and the trouble was over. Now Scotia was less 
responsive with every passing day—more indifferent 
to her regrets—more silent—more utterly passive to 
all domestic interests. Her face had lost its fine 
color ; her hair lay in dull loosened coils upon her 
pillow ; she declared herself unable either to ride or 
to walk; she finally kept her room, and sank into a 
state of real invalidism. 

But ere this climax was reached May was nearly 
over. Angus Bruce had resigned his charge and gone 
to Edinburgh. The Colonel and his son were in 
London, spending a gay week there with Lady Yar¬ 
row, the Cupars, and other county acquaintances. 
And it was about this time the letter Bertha feared 
came. Sarah Latham and her husband were still in 
Leith. They had missed their ship. They had been 
down with fever. In short, they wanted five pounds. 
Bertha borrowed the sum of the housekeeper and sent 
it, and then she commenced a new worry about the 
next claim. All the horror of a quick gathering debt 
was upon her, and she foresaw that after she had in¬ 
extricably embarrassed herself, she might be com¬ 
pelled to face the shame of her position. 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE, 3^5 

At the beginning of June, Colonel Rodney and his 
son Archibald returned. The Cupars traveled home 
with them, and it was evident that Julia and Archi¬ 
bald were on the high road to matrimony. The 
match was suitable in every way ; there was nothing 
on either side but approvals and good wishes. 

“ You always wanted to marry the heir to Rodney,” 
said Bertha to her friend in their first quiet interview 
—“you remember about Blair? ” 

“ Blair is not to be named with Archie. Do you 
know that Blair is married ? ” 

“No! Is it possible ? To whom?” 

The widow of a publican. She is ten years older 
than Blair, but she has ten thousand pounds. They 
have gone to Australia. Gilchrist told me. It is 
strange you did not hear. I have more news for you. 
Sir Thomas Carr is coming to London. I saw his 
brother the day before we left. He is bringing secret 
despatches.” 

“Oh, Julia! If I could only meet him! Julia, 
help me in this matter, and I will do all I can to make 
you happy.” 

“ Will you marry him ? If so, I will invite him to 
our house. Indeed, he is sure to come and see Gil¬ 
christ. In the mean time, I can write nice little things 
about you.” 

“Julia, if you only would! Of course I shall 
marry him—if he asks me again. What can I do for 
you, Julia ? ” 

“ Well dear, you can marry. Girl friends are very 
nice, but when they become sisters-in-law they are 
objectionable. I should like Scotia and you to be 
married before I marry Archie. I am frank, Bertha, 
because girls see through each other, and I like to do 


3 o6 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


things on the plain giff-gaff principle, rather than trust 
to the uncertainties and anxieties of plotting and 
planning for one’s own way. I want Scotia to be 
happy with her minister, and you with your Indian 
secretary, and then I can make myself happy at 
Innergrey without a continual fight against envy, 
malice, and all uncharitableness.” 

There was an uncharitable answer on Bertha’s 
tongue, but she kept it there. Plain-spoken, truthful 
people are irritating. Truth ought to be diluted for 
the average taste. Bertha took the sharp mouthful 
of words without wincing. She wanted to marry Sir 
Thomas Carr, and Julia Cupar was the way to that 
end. d’o get out of the reach of Scotia’s misery, and 
Bruce’s scorn, and the Latham’s drunkenness and 
greed, would be a good thing ; no matter if she had 
to go to India to do it. India was not so bad. Cal¬ 
cutta was different from garrison life. There was a 
kind of court at Calcutta, and as Lady Carr, she would 
be a distinguished courtier. She read a great deal 
about India and was enthusiastic upon the subject. 
Sir Thomas Carr had only to come to Fife and get 
“ yea ” where he once got “ nay.” 

Scotia had comforted herself somewhat with the 
hope of her father’s sympathy. But when he returned, 
she found herself unable to tell him the whole truth. 
He was so happy, she could not bear to make him 
miserable. The travel, the warmth and sunshine, the 
constant society of two enthusiastic young men, had 
renewed his youth. His face had lost the pale, fret¬ 
ful look of the valetudinarian. He had abandoned 
his staff altogether, and walked erect and with firm 
steps. He was well pleased with Julia Cupar. She 
was handsome, shrewd, good-tempered, and possessed 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 307 

of fine health and one thousand pounds a year. He 
could desire no better wife for his heir, and Archie 
loved, and was beloved by her. 

Into this hopeful atmosphere Scotia could not 
bring her suffering and despair. Her father was told 
she had a fever, and he believed the fever accounted 
for the dreadful change in his darling. She let him 
think so; and only asked that she might be permitted 
to go to her Aunt Yarrow for a change. “I have 
asked aunt to put up with me for a little while,” she 
said, ‘‘and she has sent me the kindest letter. Let 
me go. Mother. Let me go. Father.” 

Mrs. Rodney was sure it was the best thing for 
every one to let Scotia go away until she had learned 
to bear her burden more bravely. Mentally she con¬ 
trasted Scotia’s behavior on losing her lover with 
Bertha’s, and she thought Bertha had borne her dis¬ 
appointment in far the nobler manner. For she did 
not take into consideration the different circumstances, 
and the opposite natures of the two girls, nor yet of 
their lovers. She saw only that Scotia’s trouble 
troubled the otherwise happy house, and she rather 
resented the idea of Rodney House being shadowed 
by the influence of a man in the social position of 
Angus Bruce. The minister had never occupied a 
very favored place in her regard. She thought his 
attentions to Scotia presumptuous. She thought 
Scotia, with all her advantages, ought to make a much 
better marriage. Jemima’s adopted son was not a 
proper match for her beautiful daughter. 

Whatever her suspicions were regarding the trick 
played upon the minister, she kept them to herself. 
Bertha saw, however, that she was not displeased at 
the quarrel between Scotia and Bruce. And when 


3 o8 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Bertha urged her mother to obtain for Scotia her 
desire with regard to visiting Lady Yarrow again, 
Mrs. Rodney privately decided that Bertha had ex¬ 
cellent reasons for such urging. She thought k best 
to gratify both her daughters, without embarrassing 
herself with their motives. 

It is so seldom that the event we look forward to, 
as likely to bring us some pleasure or salvation, ever 
meets, much less betters, our expectations. Scotia 
was pained and disappointed in many ways, instead of 
being comforted by her father’s and brother’s return. 
And perhaps one of the keenest and saddest was the 
indifference with which Bruce’s removal was regarded. 
Archie had almost forgotten him, in his newer and 
more constant tutor. The Colonel took his absence 
with comfortable philosophy. He had something now 
of his wife’s feelings about Scotia marrying a minister. 
He felt that, for the honor of Rodney, she ought to 
do better. 

Then he was not sorry to find Innergrey empty. Ar¬ 
chie wished to marry. The Colonel believed he might 
make some arrangement with Lady Yarrow about the 
house, and then there was nothing to delay the mar¬ 
riage. It was the event on which he now built all his 
future. His grandsons and granddaughters running 
through the halls and rooms of Rodney, was the vision 
which brightened all the years before him. Bruce was 
necessary to none of his plans. He stood in the way of 
some of them. He gave the minister a few words of 
honorable mention, and let him pass, as he hoped, out 
of his life. 

Scotia was angry at this attitude. She thought it 
shameful ingratitude. Whatever Bruce had done to 
her, he had done nothing but kindness to the rest of 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 309 

the Rodneys. She spoke with an irritation, ill-timed 
and ill-regulated, on the subject ; and found her re¬ 
marks simply passed over or laid to the score of her 
sickness. 

She was glad to get away from so much hope and 
happiness. In Lady Yarrow’s quieter house, she 
might find the unnoticed seclusion and the silent 
sympathy she needed. Lady Yarrow was now at Yar¬ 
row Bell, one of the loveliest peaks of the Cheviots. 
The very thought of the place soothed Scotia, and all 
her dreams of it were more than verified, as she ap¬ 
proached the secluded district in which Yarrow Tow¬ 
ers stood. A lonely peace pervaded it. Lovely copses 
of wych-elm and birch embossed the land. The 
great hills stood around about the valleys. The run¬ 
ning waters made music everywhere. The hamlets 
were few and far apart ; the shepherds’ cots hid away 
in the crannies of the hills. 

Far off she could see a large, lonely white bouse. 
It was pointed out to her as Yarrow Towers. It had 
a long snowy frontage, full of windows, and gardens 
stretching every way, until they touched heather or 
running water. When she entered the shady, solemn, 
planted places, she felt a sudden peace fall upon her 
restless heart. She bent her face into her hands and 
cried a little. When Lady Yarrow took her in her 
arms, she cried a great deal ; she could, not restrain 
herself; she sobbed herself to sleep to the soft croon¬ 
ing words the two women murmured above her. 

Their sympathy was irresistible. That night she 
told her aunt and Ann everything. The old lady felt 
each word of her narrative. Ann instantly laid the 
blame on Bertha. 

“ Bertha must not have all the blame,” said Lady 


310 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


Yarrow. ‘‘Our son has behaved very badly to this 
poor lassie. You are his mother, Ann, and you ought 
to give him some angry words.” 

“ Write yoursel’, my lady. Angus isna to be 
blamed. Scotia doesna blame him. He couldna hae 
done either less or main The dear lad is suffering, 
too, I ken that. Angus Bruce, as Angus Bruce, 
would forgie everything.” 

“ There is nothing to forgive, Ann.” 

“ I’m supposing there is, my lady.” 

“ I cannot permit evil to be supposed of my niece, 
Ann.” 

“ Weel, weel! the lassie isna perfect, neither am I, 
nor yet your ain sel’. I was going to say he might 
forgie as Angus Bruce, and yet no daur to marry a 
lassie he thought unfit to help him in the office o’ his 
ministry.” 

“ Tut, tut! He thinks more of his office than 
there is any occasion for. He is neither pope nor 
kaiser, nor, just yet, moderator of the general assem¬ 
bly. He ought to think shame of himself for doubt¬ 
ing a woman like Scotia Rodney.” 

“ He be to believe his ain eyesight, my lady.” 

“ He should have proved his ain eyesight.” 

“ If Scotia had seen Angus making love to another 
lassie, would not she have done as he has done ? ” 

“ No ! ” said Scotia quickly. “ I would have fol¬ 
lowed the seeming traitors, and proved them so. Or 
if Angus had made such denial to me as I did to him, 
I would have trusted in his word ; and watched and 
waited, until it was proved to be truth itself. If proof 
had never come, I should still have believed him.” 

“ Angus would hae been worthy o’ belief in a’ 
cases.” 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 


3 ” 


Scotia is equally so, Ann.” 

“ I never wronged Angus in a thought,” said Scotia 
sadly. 

“ For a’ that, my dear, you shouldna hae gane riding 
aboot wi’ that young soldier.” 

“Jamie Forres is honor itself, Ann. I’ll hear noth¬ 
ing against Jamie Forres. And he in love with Flora 
Monteith at that very time, and just troth plighted to 
her I The thing is past belief. He has not one 
thought of Scotia in the way of love-making, Ann.” 

“ Aye ; but our Angus didna ken that.” 

“ Angus has been making a confidante of you, Ann ; 
that is easily seen, Ann. Why did you not show me 
his letters ? I would have been putting this matter 
straight long since.” 

“ It is beyond your guiding, my lady. I hae put 
the matter where it belongs lang syne. It will come 
a’ right, at the right time ; and we had better bide the 
set hour.” 

But while waiting the set hour, sympathy is a great 
strengthener. Scotia had it in two forms. Lady 
Yarrow blamed Bruce, and thus gave her an oppor¬ 
tunity to defend him. Ann excused her son, and so 
gave her still more pleasant opportunities of agreeing 
with her. 

The house itself was restorative. Lady Yarrow 
called it her “ Castle of Indolence.” She permitted 
no noise and no hurry in it. The servants went 
leisurely about in felt slippers. Ceremonious dress 
was excused, the prevailing style being loose gowns 
of soft silk muslin. Lounging, dreaming, loitering 
seemed to be the only proper occupation of those large, 
silent rooms. There were no dogs on the place to 
bark. There were no giggling, singing servants; 


312 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


douce, middle-aged men and women attended to the 
business of living, in a slow, methodical, noiseless 
manner. 

Hour after hour Scotia lay upon a couch by an 
open window, watching the gardeners among the 
flowers and shrubs. There were two old men, but 
they seldom spoke to each other. Only the sound of 
running waters, and the voices of birds and bees, the 
murmuring of winds, or the pattering of rain, broke 
the restful peace of the place. In such circumstances 
a thoughtful soul has opportunity to hear its own 
plaints and desires ; it can examine itself and talk to 
itself, and 

Hearken what the inner spirit sings 

There is no joy but calm. 

For surely, amid all the sorrows and stress of life, men 
and women in all ages have had these passionate 
yearnings after rest. The garden of Eden ; the 
blessed Avalon ; the temple of Sangreal ; the height 
of Mount Sitanta,—what are they but the visions of 
that passionate craving of the royal Hebrew ? “ Oh 

that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away 
and be at rest ! ” 

Yet there were many echoes from the outside world 
in this fair retreat. Bruce’s letters to his mother and 
Lady Yarrow were full of the last scattering shots of 
the late theological battle. There are ministers who 
seem to be especially fitted for the demands of great 
cities. They keep the gates of the church, and stand 
“at arms” continually; there are others whom God 
sends into country places, to care only for the few 
sheep in some wilderness. Bruce was naturally a man 
of war; and he was now in the front of that gigantic 
financial battle with impossibilities, which brought out, 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 313 

in such splendid force, the full moral majesty of the 
Free Kirk movement, and sowed Scotland with 
churches from Shetland to Galloway. 

Had he time, with hands, and heart, and brain ever 
busy, to think of Scotia ? Yes ; she was the underlying 
thought of every hour. He felt the need of her sym¬ 
pathy, and the idea of her disloyalty was like a thorn 
in his heart ; it fretted him through all his toil. It 
made him perhaps a little fierce and intolerant ; fierce 
against all sin, intolerant of all indecision, or even of 
moderation in well-doing. His sermons were so fiery, 
so impassioned, so positive, that those who did not 
care to choose that day whom they would serve—God 
or the Devil—preferred not to have Angus Bruce ask 
them the question. 

Lady Yarrow found her only objection to Bruce’s 
ministry in this pronounced impatience of delay or 
vacillation. She had gone one Sabbath privately to 
hear him preach, and she came home a little ill- 
tempered at the sermon. “He hurries people too 
much, Ann,” she said. “ It is this way, or that way, 
and no time to consider. The sinners in kirk this 
morning must have felt as if they were hanging 
over Tophet ; and the saints did not perhaps care 
to go to heaven so quickly as he was urging them 
on.” 

“’Deed, our Angus calls neither saints nor sinners 
wi’ an uncertain sound. You gave God a good 
soldier, my Lady.” 

“ I did, Ann. I am proud enough of Angus Bruce.” 
She sat still a moment smiling and then continued : 
“ I would dearly like to have him preach to some 
gentlemanly expounders I have heard—men who are 
afraid to pronounce the ‘h ’ in heaven and hell, and 


314 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


who call damnation ‘ demnition.’ Angus would give 
them every letter of the law ; eh, Ann ? ” 

“ Every tittle, my Lady—the full measure to their 
sins, even the small dust of the balance.” 

Both women reflected on this hypersensitiveness of 
conscience when they looked at Scotia. Perhaps both 
women thought in their secret hearts that Scotia had 
been a little to blame. Ann knew her son’s strong 
love for the girl; she was certain Angus had, what he 
thought, irrefragible proofs of her unworthiness, to 
have so absolutely given her up. Lady Yarrow 
thought that with a man so accurately truthful, a very 
innocent familiarity, a very trifling deviation from 
rectitude, would become an unpardonable offense. 
They had both written to him about Scotia. Lady 
Yarrow had not spared adjectives in describing Scotia’s 
suffering and fading health. But Bruce made no 
comment, and took no action in the matter. He suf¬ 
fered, though, and three women knew he was suffer¬ 
ing ; though he would neither make a complaint nor 
seek medicine for his heart-wound. 

At Rodney the summer went happily away. Every 
element of sorrow had departed from the fair old 
house. The Colonel and his son were constantly to¬ 
gether. They were father and son, and also good 
friends and comrades. And Bertha had now changed 
all her opinions about her brother. He was fond of 
Bertha. Her clinging, womanly ways pleased him. 
He taught her how to ride a horse, and every fine 
morning they could be seen on the road to Cupar 
House, to visit Julia. Frequently Julia returned to 
Rodney with them, and then, at night, Gilchrist came 
for Julia. The Colonel and Mrs. Rodney thought that 
never, in all their lives, had they been so really happy. 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE, 315 

One morning about the end of August Archibald 
and Bertha rode over to Cupar House. As they ap¬ 
proached the door, Julia and Sir Thomas Carr came 
to meet them. Bertha was looking uncommonly well, 
and her face flushed with pleasure when her old lover 
looked into it for his welcome. Julia had her habit 
on. “We were waiting for you”; she said. “Now 
we can go over to Rodney together.” Archibald and 
Julia soon left Bertha and her lover far behind. They 
had so much to say to each other that they found out 
a longer road to Rodney in order to have time to 
say it. 

Indeed, the family were at lunch when they arrived. 
Julia glanced at Bertha, and understood her quickly 
lifted eyelids and look of assurance. She touched 
the empty chair beside her, and said significantly : 

“ Are you hungry ? or satisfied ? ” 

“ Satisfied ; yet I will have some game pasty, and a 
cream.” 

After lunch they left the three gentlemen to talk of 
India, and Indian affairs, and went to Bertha’s room 
to di.scuss much more interesting matters. 

“ He has asked me to marry him, Julia.” 

“ I hope you said a decent ‘ yes.’ I mean a straight¬ 
forward I-should-like-to ‘yes ’.” 

“ I told him I had always loved him, and no one 
but him ; and he said, ‘what a pure salvation Archi¬ 
bald’s restoration was to us.’ You know what kind 
of things are said—sworn to. Every man says the 
same words.” 

“ Every man but Archie. I should be in favor of 
sending youths to Persia and Khiva to learn how to 
talk to women. My dear, I assure you Archie’s 
vocabulary of love is as unique as it is emphatic. He 


3 i6 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


is like a lover out of the Arabian Nights. I never 
hoped for such luck.” 

Take care you do not get a husband out of the 
Arabian Nights. I do not think they are nice. Sir 
Thomas is going to speak to Father to-night. We 
shall be married next month. He asked me if I 
could be ready, and I said ‘ easily ’; and he thought 
I was ‘ so s.ensible’. Of course, I did not think it 
necessary to tell him my wedding dress was waiting, 
and that I should only have to add a few muslin 
things to my outfit.” 

“ What a merciful blindness falls upon men when 
they are in love ! ” 

“ I shall have to send for Scotia to my wedding, 
though she may not be able to come. I^ady Yarrow 
says she is very weak, I wonder what is the matter 
with her. After all, the younger is to be married 
before the elder ; and I shall ask Angus Bruce to 
marry me to Sir Thomas. Angus is so handsome and 
distinguished-looking ; he will give the proper relig¬ 
ious tone to the wedding—our new minister is old 
and ugly, and he snuffles and shuffles.” 

“ Bertha Rodney, you are sublime ! ” 

And Julia looked at her friend with a queer kind of 
admiration. For Bertha had long ago confided to 
her the means she had used to break off the 7nesallia?ice 
between Scotia and Angus Bruce. Of course she had 
only given her own version of the story ; she had 
withheld something, and she had added something, 
and thus managed to make the circumstance appear 
a rather clever, and not very ill-natured proceeding. 
And she had so frequently declared that she had to 
do .something, in the absence of her father and ill¬ 
ness of her mother, to preserve the honor of the 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 317 

house, and keep her sister from ruining her whole 
future, that she had almost taught herself to believe 
her treachery was expedient. 

The wooing of Sir Thomas went prosperously. 
Rodney House was again in a tumult for Miss Bertha’s 
wedding. The side halls were encumbered with 
trunks and packing cases. Mrs. Rodney, between 
smiles and tears, was preparing her daughter for her 
new life. The Colonel, feeling that Bertha deserved 
some recompense for a disappointment she had taken 
so bravely, exerted himself, and partly denuded him¬ 
self, to send her away with full hands. The world 
went very well with Bertha Rodney that sunny 
autumn. 

She persuaded her father to write to Bruce. He 
was not eager to do it, but Bertha’s requests in these 
last days were laws, and he did as she desired him. 
Angus perceived the restraint which bound the kind 
words, and he was wounded by it. Also, he would be 
likely to meet Scotia, and he was fully determined not 
to go into the way of temptation. If she said, “ I am 
sorry, forgive me, Angus,” what could he do but for¬ 
give her ? He had forgiven her. But then she might 
expect their engagement to be renewed, and that 
was, he believed, impossible. If he ever married, it 
must be a woman not only precious to Angus Bruce, 
but who was also worthy of his office—a fit representa¬ 
tive of the minister’s wife. Both ought to be lights in 
the sight of the whole kirk ; and if they were either 
of them dim or uncertain, some might go astray in 
consequence, and their souls be demanded at his 
hand. 

This position may appear extravagant and far¬ 
fetched td ee-rtain teachers of the present day but it 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


318 

was a vital one to Angus. If his wife was not a crown 
of glory to his office, she must be a reproach and a 
stumbling block. He had explained to his mother 
and to Lady Yarrow this necessity very fully. Mrs. 
Bruce thought it one not to be disputed. Lady Yar¬ 
row said its stupidity was evident to any faculty but 
the theological one ; and that if it was correct, then 
there ought to be colleges and universities for the 
training of ministers’ wives. 

So Angus Bruce refused to perform the ceremony 
of Bertha’s marriage, and he declared to himself that 
he would never again of his own free will go to Rod¬ 
ney House. He made this determination one Satur¬ 
day night, and he had broken it before the week was 
over. The Colonel’s own letter was the first step 
toward the broken determination. Its mild suavity 
angered him, and in some not easily defined way 
it made him very severe with himself; and as a 
sequence, he preached with an exceeding fervor and 
severity. His afternoon sermon was full of such 
startling plain truths, and such vivid pictures and ap¬ 
peals, that men trembled and covered their faces, as 
if to hide from the Just and Awful One, whose crea¬ 
tures they were. He was exhausted himself with the 
service, solemnly exhausted ; feeling very much as 
some old Hebrew prophet doubtless felt when he 
asked his heart, “ Who hath believed our report ? ” 

He went to the vestry and sat down ; too sad and 
weary to remove his gown and bands. Putting his 
elbows on the table, he buried his face in his palms. 
Vaguely the slow tramp of the departing congregation 
fell on his senses; it grew fainter and fainter, and he 
began to think of ungowning and going home. He 
was very weary, and he looked so. One of the ciders 


THE TURiV OF THE TIDE. 319 

opened the door and was struck by the tired, listless 
air of the usually prompt minister. 

“ Mr. Bruce,” he said, “ a poor woman in great dis¬ 
tress of mind wishes to see you.” 

“ I am worn out, Elder. I cannot speak another 
word. Yes, I can ; through Christ strengthening me. 
Bring her here.” 

In a few moments he was alone with her. She was 
a tall, slight woman, but she kept her face veil'ed. 
Something about her seemed familiar to Angus. He 
said, “ I do not know you. I do not ask to know you. 
Speak frankly to me.” 

“I have committed a great sin. You have made 
me feel it. I am afraid to go home. I used to live 
in Rodney Law, and when I knew you were preach¬ 
ing here, I came in to see you—to hear you.” 

“ If you have sinned, there is the Sin-Bearer and the 
Sin-Pardoner. You know Him.” 

“ I have sinned against you. Will you forgive me ? ” 

“ How have you done me any wrong ? All sin is 
against God. Put me out of the question.” 

“ I cannot. I did you a great wrong. I did a 
young lady, who was always kind to me, a shameful 
wrong. I mean Miss Rodney.” 

She did not need to tell him more ; the truth flashed 
clear and vivid as the lightning of heaven across his 
mind. He stepped close to her, he put his hand upon 
her shoulder, and she trembled like a reed. 

“You mean that it was you and Captain Forres I 
saw at the .stile in Rodney Park ? ” 

“It was I, and my husband, John Latham. I am 
Sarah Latham. John wore Captain Forres’s cloak. 
I wore Miss Rodney’s pelisse. I left her cloak and 
glove on the stile, purposely, for you to find.” 


320 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“My God !” 

He said the words reverently, almost gratefully, 
and remained a moment in silence that was worship. 

“Who asked you to do this thing? What made 
you do it ? ” 

“I wanted money to go to America. I do not wish 
to tell who asked me to do it.” 

“ Your penitence is of no avail, unless it be without 
reservation. Answer. Who asked you to do this 
wicked thing ? ” 

“ Miss Bertha Rodney. She promised me thirty 
pounds and she paid me the money. But John and I 
were unlucky with it. We spent most of it for our 
passage to New York, and then John got drunk, and 
the ship did not wait foV us.” 

“ And you also ? ” 

There was something she could not deny in his 
tone—she answered sadly. “I was drunk also.” 

“ Have you written since to Miss Bertha Rodney 
for money ? ” 

“ Three times. She only sent me two pounds last 
time.” 

“Write no more to her. If you do, you shall be 
punished. Even sinners must keep to their sinful 
bargains with each other. Is this all you have to 
tell ? ” 

“Yes. Will you forgive me? Will you ask Miss 
Rodney to forgive me ?” She began to weep bitterly, 
and Bruce prayed with her, and gave her the assur¬ 
ance of his pardon. But she went away full of fear 
and trouble—a fear and trouble Angus did not depre¬ 
cate ; for he hoped it would finally bring her peace 
and consolation. And there was now hope and joy in 
the heart of Angus Bruce. 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 


321 


A soul troubled for sin is a full meal to our minis¬ 
ter ” ; said the waiting elder, when Angus gave him a 
cheerful “adieu” and walked with brisk steps down 
the ancient, gloomy street. 

“ Now I can go to Scotia ! ” he said. “ Now I can 
go to Scotia ! Now I can go to Scotia ! Afterward, I 
shall visit Miss Bertha ! ” And if Miss Bertha could 
have seen the minister’s set, stern face at that mo¬ 
ment, she would have broken her laughter in two and 
gone away with a quaking heart, and a fearful look¬ 
ing-forward to what it portended. 


XVIII. 


GOOD-BY AND JOY BE WITH US ALL ! 

“ All things we cannot know. At sea 
As when a good ship saileth, 

Our steps within the planks are free, 

Beyond all cunning faileth,” 

“ Maiden, thou hast heard the lesson, 

As my tongue hath strength to tell. 

Typed for thee in flowery garden ; 

Take it now and use it well. 

Winged words are lightly spoken, 

With the breath the sermon dies ; 

But the precept of the moment 
Tasks a lifetime, to the wise.” 

— Blackie. 

J OY, as well as grief, is a wakeful spirit. Angus 
slept none that blessed Sabbath night, and as he 
found it impossible to banish thoughts of Scotia, he 
set’them all to thanksgiving. Even if she refused to 
pardon him—if she refused to give him again the 
troth he had so angrily returned to her—yes, even if 
her love for him was dead, he could still rejoice in 
the purity and perfection of his ideal woman. He 
could still love her and believe in her and keep her 
exquisite memory to sweeten all his after life. 

In the gray light before dawning he left Edinburgh. 
He reached Kirkton in the afternoon, refreshed him¬ 
self at the little inn there, and hired a gig to take him 
to Yarrow Bell. And as he began to climb the moun¬ 
tain road, Angus remembered the great hills shoul- 


322 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 


323 


dering one another; and the silvery, shining waters 
leaping from crag to crag, until they reached the valley. 
The heather was in bloom, and the little companies 
of sheep resting in it looked white as snow in its vio¬ 
let haze. 

Here and there a shepherd was strolling up or down 
the hillsides, and one at a great altitude was singing, 
to the exquisite minors of St. Mary’s, the twenty-third 
psalm : 

The Lord’s my shepherd. I’ll not want ; 

He makes me down to lie. 

In pastures green he leadeth me 

The quiet waters by.* 

Far off and far down, the happy pastoral sought out 
all the sweet, silent places. The singer stood on a 
jutting rock overlooking the road and the valleys far 
away, and Bruce, lifting his eyes, could just catch his 
tall figure, standing clearly out against the blue Chevi¬ 
ots behind him. His voice was the voice of a strong 
man rejoicing to sing of goodness and mercy, rejoic¬ 
ing to tell heaven and earth 

In pastures green he leadeth me 
The quiet waters by. 

Bruce lifted the lines with him, and so singing went 
up to the Bell. 

He reached the great iron gates of Yarrow Towers 
just as the psalm was finished, and there he sent back 
the gig, and went through them, with the four last lines 
lingering on his lips and making melody in his heart. 

Goodness and mercy all my life 
Shall surely follow me ; 

And in God’s house forever more, 

My dwelling place shall be. 

* Scotch Psalms ; version allowed by General Assembly of 
Church of Scotland. 



324 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


The great stillness and greenness of the place made 
him feel as if he was in a dream. The perfect confi¬ 
dence of the animals and birds made him feel as if he 
was in Eden. The hare looked at him shyly from 
her form ; the squirrel from its branch. The dappled 
deer browsing under the oaks had no fear. The 
birds with their newly-fledged families twittered to 
him about the heat, and the difficulty of the young 
birds flying in it. He was impatient to see Scotia, but 
he did not hurry ; he felt only that he was gathering 
hope and strength with every step he took. 

Just where the park became the fruit garden, he 
saw a form he knew among the raspberry standards. 

“ Mother ! Mother ! ” 

He did not speak loudly, but what word has such an 
insinuating power—insinuation that is almost author¬ 
ity. Ann turned very quickly at the first call. She 
came to meet him gladly, all her movements express- 
ing joy and welcome. Never before had she been so 
handsome in her son’s eyes. Her white gown, her 
black silk apron, the rough straw hat tied down with 
a ribbon, the little rush basket full of berries in her 
hand, made her look, in her ripe and ample beauty, like 
the goddess of some ancient garden. 

“ My dear Angus ! Oh, but you are welcome ! ” 

“ My dear mother ! I have come with good 
news.” 

“ Have you received the ‘call ’ to Free St. Mungo’s 
yet ? ” 

“ I have accepted it—that is another thing. I am 
come about Scotia.” 

“ Oh, Angus, I’m feared there is nae gude news 
about her.” 

“ She is innocent of all that I have blamed her for— 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 325 

she is pure as a'new opened lily—she is true as you 
are, mother.” 

“ Weel, weel, I’m glad to hear tell o’ such wonders.” 

“ Where ? when can I see her?” 

“ You can gae wi’ me straight to her side. You can 
gae wi’ me this vera minute. If you hae come to put 
wrong right, the sooner you get about the business, the 
better.” 

They were within the large cool hall. All was very 
quiet. Ann pointed to a lofty door, and then passed 
out of her son’s sight. She had the self-denial of a 
great nature. She was capable of resigning all share 
in joy she could not heighten. Angus opened the 
door. It moved so perfectly, so smoothly on its 
hinges that Scotia was not aware of his entrance. 

She sat in a deep, low chair by the open window. 
She had a book in her hand, but it was a closed book; 
her eyes were out-looking ; she had the gaze of one 
who is seeing things invisible. Indeed, she was at 
that moment looking backward to hours forever gone. 
She was thinking of Bruce, and thinking of him with 
great tenderness. She had come to that point where 
anger was dead, and she had begun to make excuses 
for her lover; and had begun even to find in his su¬ 
persensible and supersensitiveness of conscience, a 
noble and excellent trait. And after all, he was not to 
blame. He believed her guilty on the evidence not of 
words, but of his own senses. Perhaps he ought—> 
perhaps he ought- 

She was at this point in her solitary argument, when 
she heard Bruce’s step upon the carpet. It was dulled 
by the soft, thick pile, but she detected its peculiarity 
in a moment. She rose quickly and steadied herself 
by leaning upon the back of her chair. Bruce was 



326 


A SISl^ER TO ESAU. 


approaching her. His face had a story in it. She 
looked at him eagerly, inquisitively ; she was white as 
her white gown. Her lips parted slightly, and she 
uttered a thin, sharp cry. 

He stood before her. His attitude was that of 
grief and contrition. “ Miss Rodney,” he said, “ I 
have wronged you from the first to the last. I was 
too hasty. I never ought to have doubted you for a 
moment. I am unworthy of your love, because of 
my doubt. Forgive me, if you can ! Love me again, 
if you can ! ” 

Scotia stepped forward ; she put her arms around 
his neck ; she said, oh, such words, such sweet 
words of pardon. There are no sweeter, no more 
divine words, spoken on earth, than those love whis¬ 
pers when it forgives. She mingled them with happy 
tears. She sealed them with fondest kisses. 

Angus seated her again in her chair and drew his 
own close by her side. Holding her hands, he told 
her all that Sarah Latham had confessed to him. 
Scotia listened now without anger. The trouble was 
over. Angus was closer than ever to her, she could 
afford to forgive, even those who were not sorry— 
who still kept the secret of their wrong-doing. She 
heard with a happy indifference the particulars, and 
then turned the conversation on Bruce’s own pros¬ 
pects. She had heard he was to have the call to 
Free Saint Mungo’s in Edinburgh. Was it true? 
Was it not a very large congregation ? Was it not a 
great honor ? 

They were talking of these things when Ann and 
Lady Yarrow entered. Lady Yarrow gave Bruce her 
hand, but she said, with a shake of her head, “ So 
you have come at last, sir. I think shame of your 
loitering.” 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 


327 


“ I think shame of it myself, mother." 

Hear what he says, Ann ! The lad has some 
grace left." 

Then Bruce explained the circumstances again. It 
never^^ntered his mind to extenuate or smooth over 
Bertha’s share in the conspiracy. A sinner, rich or 
poor, friend or foe, was a sinner to Bruce. If he 
thought excuse in the matter possible, he would have 
given it to Sarah Latham, and not to Bertha. Sarah 
had the old, old plea for doing evil—she was doing it, 
for good to come. Bertha had no such excuse. He 
did not spare her in the narrative of the wrong done. 

“ She is the daughter of her mother," said Lady 
Yarrow bitterly. 

“ But, Aunt, my mother would not have permitted 
Bertha to do anything so cruel, if she had known of 
it—that is most certain.’' 

“You are right, my dear. Come, let us be sensible, 
and at Yarrow Bell ignore what is going on at Rod¬ 
ney. Yet I hear there is talk of a marriage there, 
and Scotia is wanted. I am very averse to her 
going." 

Oh, the two days of perfect joy that followed this 
reunion ! By tacit consent all unhappy subjects were 
forgotten. Scotia looked forward and not backward, 
and Ann and Lady Yarrow watched them with a more 
than human sympathy—more than human, because 
there was not in it a single selfish element. They 
encouraged the young people to be the world to each 
other. It was gratification enough for them to watch 
the handsome couple wandering in the translucent, 
green light under the trees, or in the shady garden, 
when the setting sun made the air seem full of gold 
dust. • 


328 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


The night before Angus was to leave, Lady Yar¬ 
row came to them as they sat together after sunset. 
They leaned against each other. Angus was holding 
his love’s hand, their eyes were fixed upon the moun¬ 
tains turning iron-gray against a yellow sky. At this 
hour they looked stupendous. It was a little chilly, 
and at the same moment Ann came in with a soft 
woolen shawl, which she wrapped around Scotia. 
Scotia lifted her face gratefully and Ann kissed her. 
Ann was not demonstrative ; the act was a very signifi¬ 
cant one ; it had an influence far stronger than its ap¬ 
parent reason. A three-fold cord is not easily broken. 
In that moment a mysterious one, impalpable to sense, 
but strong to resist all the wear and tear of life, 
bound the son, and the mother, and the future wife 
together. As they stood thus. Lady Yarrow put a 
letter into Bruce’s hand. 

Before you speak to Colonel Rodney about Scotia, 
give him this letter, Angus. A golden key opens all 
doors—and very near all hearts and to avoid Bruce’s 
questions and thanks, she began to talk eagerly about 
a caterpillar of very lovely shades she had just taken 
off her dress. “ I must have got it in the garden. 
Poor, ignorant worm ! It knows not what bliss awaits 
it. What purple wings! Knows not it will have the 
air for its kingdom, and the flowers for its pantry. It 
is blind to all its coming glories, and a little while 
ago it was eating leaves and grass. As regards it, I 
am a prophet. I can see what it has been, and what 
it will be. Is there not One, who, from the heights 
of heaven, looks thus upon our destiny ?” 

“ It is a beautiful symbol of our future life,” said 
Bruce. 

. “ Perhaps, also, of our pre-existence.” Scotia spoke 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 


329 


musingly, as if the words came without intention, and 
indeed she was sorry for them, as soon as they were 
uttered. For Lady Yarrow, always eager for dis¬ 
cussion, answered : 

“ VVe do not permit such statements, Scotia, unless 
you make them clearer.” 

“ I was only asking.myself, does the grub remember 
the egg ,* the chrysalis, the grub ; the butterfly, the 
chrysalis ? In the same way, may we not have lived 
lives before this one ; humbler, less intelligent, less 
beautiful.” 

“ My dear Scotia ! ” and Bruce took her hands and 
looked steadily into her eyes, “ complete the circle. 
Does the egg remember the butterfly ? Dearest! can 
you think we possess eternity only to escape from it, by 
recommencing our lives ? To be little children again; 
to struggle through the weakness, the ignorance, the 
unreasonable afflictions of childhood ; to fight over 
again the battles of maturity ; to grow old again ; to 
die—would this be the satisfaction that is promised 
us ? ” 

Even this view has splendid opportunities and 
possibilities, Angus dear, but we must-” 

“ Children,” said Lady Yarrow positively, “ have 
you considered this life sufficiently ? When you are 
married to Angus, Scotia, do you intend to trouble 
him with all these restless questions ? ” 

“I hope so”; answered Angus promptly. We 
shall not again quarrel about them. Scotia will bring 
them to me—and only me. I shall respect her ideas, 
even where I cannot change them.” 

“ I am glad to hear this. There is such an infinite 
variety in all things. No two roses on a tree ju.st alike. 
Do we wish them so? Angus, you must not ruth- 



330 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


lessly, and in a moment, expect to cut Scotia to your 
own shape and size. Scotia, you must give Angus 
room and love to reach to the full stature of his nature. 
In years, such husbands and wives grow into a lovely 
similitude—a similitude retaining all individual charac¬ 
teristics.” 

“ Scotia, in the main, is a good Calvinist, mother. 
We both hold the Bible in our hands and hearts. We 
both believe in the fatherhood of God, and the sacrifice 
of Christ. There are plenty of points on which we 
can agree.” 

“ But if God should gie you sons and daughters,” 
said Ann solemnly, “ fence their youth around wi’ 
Calvinism, wi’ the dear auld Shorter Catechism.” 

Lady Yarrow smiled, but added, “ Ann, you are 
right, as you always are. The Shorter Catechism is 
the Magna Charta of a really strong character. Stern 
and harsh, some say ! Well, suppose it is. What is 
character ? Is it not something engraved ; and the 
engraving process is not done with a feather. En¬ 
grave on the minds of the young the strongest law 
you can find, in the very strongest character. You 
believe me, Scotia ? ” 

“ I do, dear aunt. I know that a young sapling 
must have a fence around it, or the cattle will browse 
on the leaves, and many dangers will come to it.” 

“ And the best of a’ fences is the Shorter Cate¬ 
chism,” said Ann dourly. 

Scotia smiled and continued, “And if the tree grows 
strong and high inside its fence, all is well. Also, if 
it send out roots beyond, and branches beyond, and 
grow fair and fine beyond, and break away the fence, 
because it is strong enough to burst its bonds, and to 
take a wider growth, and a higher freedom ; is it not 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 


331 


also a tree that God has planted and watered, and 
blown upon, and shone upon ? Angus knows my heart 
to its depths. If he grow up like a mountain fir tree,— 
strong, compact, ever pointing skyward,—he will suffer 
me to grow by his side, though I be like a birch tree, 
spreading my branches far and wide, and rustling my 
silver-lined leaves to every wind of God that touches 
me.” 

And Angus took her hands, and looked into her 
eyes, with a promise that she felt to be wise and kind 
as it was inviolable. 

The ne'xt morning Bruce left Yarrow Bell for Rod¬ 
ney. He was going to see Bertha. He had no inten¬ 
tion of speaking to Colonel Rodney about his engage¬ 
ment to Scotia until after Bertha’s marriage. But he 
did think that young lady ought to realize that she 
had failed. He could not let her begin a new life with 
the idea that wickedness was a success. • 

He reached Rodney late, and stayed at Innergrey all 
night. Early in the morning he walked over to Rod¬ 
ney House and asked to see Bertha. She was not so 
anxious to see Bruce now. She was going to be Lady 
Carr, and Bruce had refused to perform the ceremony. 
His unexpected call gave her no uneasiness. She 
only speculated, as she put on her most becoming 
morning dress, “ What could have brought him to 
Rodney 1 Perhaps he had altered his mind, and 
wished now to take a part in her wedding. Perhaps 
he had found out that he loved her.”_ She made her¬ 
self sweetly pretty, and went down with a smile. 

Bruce made no preliminaries. As soon as she en¬ 
tered the room he said, “ Miss Bertha, Sarah Latham 
came to me and revealed the disgraceful plot you car¬ 
ried out together. I have written out all she said ; I 


332 


A SISTER TO ESAU, 


must insist upon your signing your name to it. I 
think it is the only way to protect your sister Scotia 
from inuendos derogatory to her as Miss Rodney, and 
also as my intended wife." 

Bertha grew scarlet as he spoke. Her very hands 
were red. She trembled with fear and impotent pas¬ 
sion as she took the paper Bruce offered. As she 
read it, her face constantly changed. Terror of her 
father, terror of Sir Thomas, terror of all that would 
follow, blanched the crimson white again. As she 
remembered the nicety of Sir Thomas Carr’s honor, 
his hatred of anything mean, the contempt he would 
feel for her ; and then put in sympathy with it her 
father’s passionate sense of right and wrong, his love 
for Scotia, his abhorrence of lying, she foresaw a 
sequence of events which would again break off her 
marriage, and consign her to general contempt. 

What must she do ? She could not deny the cir¬ 
cumstance. She looked into Bruce’s stern face, and 
saw no hope of pity in it. He intended to make her 
sign that paper, and then show it to her father and 
mother, and perhaps to Sir Thomas Carr. She had 
no time to make exceptions, or consider possibilities 
in her favor ; her case was a desperate one. She 
accepted the last resort of a desperate, unreasonable, 
cowardly woman. She went into a fit of the most 
alarming hysterics. She filled the house with her 
shrieks ; she held her hands over her heart, and 
gasped for breath, as if she were dying. She fell upon 
the floor, in a perfectly decorous abandon. 

Colonel Rodney, Archibald, Mrs. Rodney, all the 
servants from the kitchen and the garden, from the 
dairy and the stables, came running to answer her 
piercing cries for help. Archibald cried to the ostler 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 


333 


for a fleet horse, and went flying through the park for 
a doctor. Mrs. Rodney had the apparently dying 
girl carried to her room, and it took several servants 
to carry her. The whole house was in a state of dis¬ 
organization—hot water, cold water, brandy, laud¬ 
anum—a dozen voices calling for a dozen restoratives. 

Bruce was genuinely terrified. So was the Colonel, 
and every man on the place. The women were more 
calm. They had all, even the youngest dairy-maid, an 
instinctive knowledge of Bertha’s complaint. They 
felt that under certain circumstances they might be 
affected much in the same way. Archie, riding for 
life or death, the Colonel wringing his hands in 
speechless misery, Bruce feeling at once like a judge 
pronouncing sentence and a sheriff carrying it out, 
were all suffering far more than the sobbing, shrieking 
girl upstairs. Bruce, indeed, blamed himself some¬ 
what. He had not expected that the conviction of 
her sin would be so strong and so terrible to Bertha. 
He had meant to be merciful to her, but he could 
not now take any comfort from his intention. 

As soon as the doctor had pronounced the case 
“ not dangerous ” he went back to Innergrey. He 
was afraid the Colonel would question him, and he 
was not now inclined to tell the Colonel. Bertha 
would doubtless be equal to supplying the cause for 
the effect. Until he could see her again, the affair 
must be at rest. 

Bertha was cleverly non-committal. She did not 
know what was the matter. Mr. Bruce had just said 
“ good-morning,” and before she could speak, the 
pain and the choking came on. The doctor, with 
the wise intelligence of doctors in domestic matters, 
gravely suggested heart-disease, and behind this 


334 


A SISJ'ER rO ESAU. 


fortification Bertha sheltered herself, pale, exhausted, 
with her hair and clothing more out of order than any 
member of the House of Rodney had ever before 
seen them. Finally, a sedative put her to sleep ; and 
every one went on their tip-toes, and talked in whis¬ 
pers of poor Miss Bertha’s heart disease 

She was roused from this affectation of invalidism 
by a circumstance startling enough. In mid-after¬ 
noon Sir Thomas Carr was seen riding at a hard gallop 
through the park. He had been summoned to Lon¬ 
don. His despatches were ready. There was no 
time for delay. The marriage must take place at 
once, or be put off indefinitely. The alternative was 
made as delicately as possible to Bertha. It acted 
like a miracle. She was well in sixty seconds. All 
her wits came back to her, sharp and clear. 

Very well, dear mother, d'ell Sir Thomas I will 
be ready at six o’clock. That will give us time to 
send for the minister and our nearest neighbors. My 
principal trunks can be sent after me to Southampton. 
If Sir Thomas has to leave at eight o’clock, I shall not 
detain him a moment. I hope I realize his position, 
and my duty, better. And oh, dear, dear mother, it 
is perhaps better that such a long looking-forward to 
parting is avoided ! I cannot help feeling so much 
about it ? The feeling was really what made me ill 
this morning.” 

The marriage, so unexpectedly forced forward, was 
in some respects a great success. Bruce, coming back 
in the afternoon to inquire after Bertha’s condition, 
was persuaded by the Colonel to perform the cere¬ 
mony ; and the pallid bride gave him one sad, long 
look which his kind heart could not resist. He 
answered it with an assuring glance. Bertha was 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 


335 


comforted by it. She was so modest, and so sorrow¬ 
ful, and the quick parting with her kindred and home 
seemed to distress her so much, the minister could not 
but give her what comfort was in his power. In a few 
whispered sentences he warned her against future de¬ 
ceptions, and gave her Scotia’s and his own forgive¬ 
ness. 

At six o’clock precisely the bride appeared in her 
splendid wedding garments, shining with jewels, and 
looking even more lovely for her pallor and sadness. 
The parlors were crowded with guests hurriedly 
summoned, many of whom had but just heard Bertha 
Rodney was dying, when they received the Colonel’s 
invitation to see her married. There was a general 
air of pleasure and satisfaction. Events that come as 
surprises are nearly always great successes. Bertha 
was so beautiful; Sir Thomas so proud and happy; 
the impromptu feast, the genial minister, the splendid 
house all lighted and flung open, the murmur of 
conversation, of low laughter, the busy importance of 
the servants, all aided the feeling of an accomplished 
destiny. 

At eight o’clock a carriage, drawn by fleet horses, 
appeared at the door, and Bertha, in a pretty travel¬ 
ing costume, entered it. She was both weeping and 
smiling. Her father, and mother, and brother stood 
with loving, anxious faces watching her as she drove 
away. The full moon shone with unclouded radiance. 
She felt her husband’s arms around her. She was 
Lady Bertha Carr. She was going to London, to 
India. She had her own plans about India. She felt 
she had diplomatic talents ; she had a proper field for 
them in that vice-regal court. Life had fair possi¬ 
bilities yet in keeping for Lady Bertha Carr, and 


33 ^ A SISTER TO ESAU, 

she kissed her husband, and turned not unhappily to 
meet them. 

Rodney House was very dull after Bertha had gone 
away. She had always known how to keep it inter¬ 
ested about her affairs. There was no one to take 
her place in this respect. Archie was a great deal 
with Julia Cupar. The Colonel was often lonely. 
Scotia was hardly well enough to come home. Bruce 
had accepted the call to Free Saint Mungo’s, and 
was in Edinburgh. Very soon Lady Yarrow would 
be in Edinburgh. Thinking of these things one 
day, the Colonel suddenly resolved to close Rodney 
House and take Mrs. Rodney and Archie to Edin¬ 
burgh for the winter. Archie could then have the 
benefit of the University lectures. And Archie, know¬ 
ing the Cupars were certain to be there, very urgently 
pressed the change ; so that it was finally decided to 
allow Scotia to remain with her aunt until they all 
met at the capital. 

This meeting occurred in the first days of October. 
Among the Cheviots the winter comes early, and 
Lady Yarrow was back at the Edinburgh mansion 
when Colonel Rodney and his family took possession 
of the house they had rented. It was not far from 
Yarrow House, and there was now no alternative but 
that the long-parted sisters must meet. Both dreaded 
the meeting ; but events were kinder to them than 
they could have planned. Of course both households 
were to worship in Free Saint Mungo’s, and Lady 
Yarrow, having bought a large pew there, offered its 
use to Colonel Rodney’s family. The offer was ac¬ 
cepted, and as they reached Edinburgh on a Saturday 
night, and were rested sufficiently for church on the 
following afternoon, the first meeting of the reunited 
family took place there. 


JO Y BE WITH US ALL ! 


337 


It was the Sacrament Sabbath, and an intense so¬ 
lemnity filled the building. The Colonel, Mrs. Rod¬ 
ney, and Archie arrived at church first, and entered 
Lady Yarrow’s pew. In a few moments Lady Yar¬ 
row and Scotia stood at its door. The Colonel gave 
his daughter one look of love, as he and Archie per¬ 
mitted the two ladies to pass them. Lady Yarrow 
went first, and she was thus compelled to seat herself 
next her sister. A shadow fleeting as a thought passed 
over her face ; she bowed her head, and really prayed 
for grace and strength. 

When she lifted her head, Dorinda was looking 
down with a troubled gaze. Lady Yarrow lifted her 
hand and clasped it in her own. Then all the congre¬ 
gation rose for prayer, and further advances were im¬ 
possible. But when the white-haired elder brought 
the holy cup, and the Colonel drank and passed it to 
his son, and Archie to his sister, and Scotia to her 
aunt, then Lady Yarrow had her gracious opportunity. 
She drank, she touched her sister, their eyes met. In 
that glance, a free, noble, absolute pardon was given 
and accepted. Jemima gave her sister Dorinda the 
holy cup, and in its blessed, crimson tide they buried 
forever the bitterness of a generation. 

The next day was full of congratulations, of the 
kindnesses of late love, of the gayness of restored 
kindred. Julia Cupar came in with Archie, and 
equalized and tempered all effusive feeling. She was 
so pleasantly commonplace, so full of graceful chit¬ 
chat concerning everybody and nobody. It was un¬ 
derstood that she was to be a very importcnt member 
of the family, and Lady Yarrow took kividly to her. 
She liked her clever speech, her air of fasnionable life, 
her thorough conservatism. 


338 


A SISTER TO ESAU. 


“She is a very pretty daughter of Mr. Worldly- 
wise-man,” she said, “ and I congratulate you, 
Dorinda, on the future mistress of Rodney.” 

Amid so much marrying and prospective marrying, 
Bruce and Scotia kept their engagement quiet till near 
the end of the year. Bruce’s kirk was finished, but 
there was some delay in deciding about a manse. 
Part of the congregation wished to build a new one, 
but Lady Yarrow’s influence and contribution decided 
the question in favor of buying a fine old house near 
the new kirk. And when this affair was settled, there 
seemed to be no reason for longer delay. 

Bruce presented his letter and reminded the Colonel 
of his previous promises. There was no need to urge 
them. Lady Yarrow’s settlement upon her adopted 
son made him a very proper mate for Scotia; and the 
Colonel told himself that Scotia had given him, after 
all, a son-in-law very much to his liking. Their friend¬ 
ship had been full of happy hours ; they were hoping 
to add many more to them. With tender words, and 
some tears, the Colonel gave his beloved Scotia to his 
friend and minister ; and Angus and Scotia had now 
only to furnish their home and set their wedding-day. 

Ann took charge of the furnishing. She had saved 
a great deal of money. It was her pleasure to make 
her son’s manse a wonder among manses ; to adorn 
every room with rich and suitable appointments ; to 
fill the linen chests with the finest damask, and the 
buffets with the purest silver plate. 

“ Naething is too good for a good minister,” she 
said, in excuse for her loving extravagance—if it 
needed excuse—“ and the rich men o’ Saint Mungo’s 
dinna want their minister to be warse sarved than 
themsel’s. It tak’s the Son o’ God to preach and 


JO Y BE WITH US ALL ! 


339 

pray for a bite and a promise, and never a place to 
lay his head.’' 

Toward the end of the year Bertha’s first letter ar¬ 
rived, and Scotia took it over to Yarrow House. It 
was full of such small triumphs as delighted Bertha. 
She had already taken the lead in the trivialities and 
formalities of her position. She was infatuated with 
her husband, and everything that belonged to her 
husband. “ There were a great many English ladies,” 
she said, “ but she was much the prettiest of them all, 
and her dresses had made most of them sick with 
envy.” 

Lady Yarrow laughed. “ She will get every one 
into hot water. Take care of that letter, Scotia. 
You will see that each one will be a little cooler. 
She will hate India in half-a-year, and will cry out so 
pitiably that we shall all exert ourselves to get Sir 
Thomas a position in England. By bell and book ! 
she will be back in Fife in less than two years.” 

As she spoke, Bruce and his mother entered. The 
weather was wet and drippy ; it was the hour before 
candle-light—the hour conducive to confidence. 
They sat down by the fire, and for tlie first time Scotia 
told her friends all about Bertha’s appeal to her con¬ 
cerning Blair Rodney, and that young man’s offer to 
both sisters. 

Ann listened with a face expressing a pious wonder 
at such doings ; but Lady Yarrow understood the 
Colonel’s anxiety and disappointment, and the whole 
domestic drama. She looked at Scotia, who sat 
smiling by Bruce’s side, and said : 

“ You imprudent lassie! You might have lost a 
fine estate for a mouthful of soft words, if Archie had 
not come to his own.” 


340 


A SISTER TO ESA U. 


“ I might,” answered Scotia ; “ and, indeed, my 
father called me that day, ‘ A sister to Esau’.” 

The relationship seemed to strike bothj^ady Yarrow 
and Ann ; they pursued it fancifully, from point to 
point. 

“ Weel, weel ! ” said Ann, “ Bertha, has had to go 
to Padan-aram—that is, India ; and she didna get 
Rodney when a’ was said and done.” 

“ Yet I dare say,” continued Lady Yarrow, “ that 
Bertha will get rich there ; and come home with two 
bands, and I am just as sure Scotia will do as Esau 
did, go with love and blessing to meet her.” 

Here a servant brought wax lights, and drew the 
blinds, and while he moved about. Lady Yarrow sat 
thinking, with her eyes fixed upon the lovely girl oppo¬ 
site her. There was a smile on the old lady’s lips ; 
she played with her rings and her laces, and seemed 
to be recalling something. Bruce may have guessed 
what it was, for when they were alone again he lifted 
a candle and went to the reading desk at the other 
end of the room. A large Bible lay upon it. The 
three women curiously followed him. Lady Yarrow 
leaned on her handsome friend and handmaid. Scotia 
went softly to Bruce’s side and leaned her head upon 
his shoulder, as his long white hands reverently turned 
the leaves of the Holy Book. 

In a moment or two he looked into her face smiling, 
and said : “ If you are a sister to Esau, Scotia, you 

have a very fine inheritance. Here it is promised : 
Behold, thy dwelling shall be the fatness of the earth, 
and of the dew of heaven from abovef 

And Lady Yarrow was silent, but she stooped and 
kissed Scotia ; and Bruce kissed her ; and Ann kissed 


JOY BE WITH US ALL! 341 

her; and when they had sat down again, Ann said 
softly: 

“ My dear Scotia, there is ane mair thing. My Lady 
Bertha is gane to Padan-aram ; but you are to dwell 
among your ain folk, and in your ain countree! ” 


THE END, 


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